The Lonely COMPLETE
by Sjoeks
Summary: A new town with a new hunt. Sam is being bullied mercilessly, but Dean isn't there to protect him now that he's finally made /the wrong/ friends. In the mean time, a monster is killing the students at their school. pretty dark Teen!Chesters casefic
1. Hey You

**Title****:** The Lonely

**Author:** Lune aka Sjoeks

**Summary:** A new town with a new hunt. Sam is being bullied mercilessly, but Dean isn't there to protect him, now that he's finally made (the wrong) friends. In the mean time, a monster is killing te students at their school. It is now up to John, Dean and Sam to find out who's the killer, preferably before their family falls apart.

**rating:** T for language and violence

**Genre:** hurt/comfort, drama, suspense, whodunit, friendship, high school, angst, crime, family, mistery,

**Warnings:** bullying, strong language, violence, murders, Dean not being the awesome big brother we all love, some sick!Sam, some hurt!Sam, a lot of angsty/sad!Sam, loneliness, underage drinking

**Timeset: **Preseries: Sam 13, Dean 17, set _before_ 'After School Special'

**Bookcover: **img825[DOT]imageshack[DOT]us/img825/5903/thelonelybookcoverii[DOT]png (replace [DOT]'s by actual dots to use link)

**Disclaimer: **Obviously don't own Supernatural, John, Dean or Sam. Do own all OC's and the plot.

_[Updated September 25 2011]_

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><p><em>Dedicated to the lonely and to Nina, who's always been there for me in time of need.<em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Hey You<strong>

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><p><em>But it was only fantasy<br>The wall was too high as you can see  
>No matter how he tried he could not break free<br>And the worms ate into his brain_

_Hey you, don't tell me there's no hope at all_  
><em>Together we stand, divided we fall<em>

_**Pink Floyd – Hey You**_

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><p>"How much further?" Sam asked from the backseat. John glanced into the rearview mirror to send his youngest a slightly annoyed look and Dean looked up from the papers he was going through, to look over his shoulder.<p>

"A few more hours, Sammy," John answered, "Maybe you can help Dean if you're bored."

They had left Las Vegas about 15 hours ago, and were now on their way to Jerusalem, a small town in Washington, near the Canadian border. In Las Vegas, there'd been an angry spirit attached to a Black Jack table. It attacked people with playing cards, scaring them away and giving them some nasty cuts. Dean had had the time of his life hunting the thing down. Even though he was only 17, with a fake ID he'd been able to get into the casino and he'd played some games. Of course, that was all because of the case. Of course.

So in a few hours, they'd arrive at Jerusalem. Sam had made a few remarks about Jesus and the bible, but Dean hadn't understood the joke and John just wasn't really interested in religion. No big shock there… all John was interested in was hunting.

"Sure," Sam leaned forward to look over Dean's shoulder and Dean reluctantly gave him the folder he'd been going through. Even though Sammy often helped on hunts (usually just the research and some salt-and-burns, mostly) he was still only 13, and Dean didn't want to scar his little brother for life. Hunts often contained nasty pictures and even nastier deaths.

"Why don't you tell us all again what we've got, Dean?" John asked. Of course John knew all the details and of course Sam knew a lot about the case already as well, but it was a good way to train his sons, and most importantly: keep them busy so they wouldn't get bored and start whining.

"Tatiana Hodgins," Dean said, "She was 16 and a cheerleader at Abraham Lincoln High School. Redhead, Gemini, really cute nose. She was 5 ft 6 and weighed 110 pounds, her bra-size was 32C and –"

"Dean!" John snapped. Dean winked at Sam, but hastily apologized to his father.

"Sorry, dad," Dean cleared his throat and put on his business face, "Anyway, so Tatiana, cheerleader, 16 years old. She was killed at her school. She was strangled, but they can't be sure that's the actual cause of death."

"Why not?" Sam asked. His eyes were scanning the printout from the morgue. How Dean had been able to break into the morgue's computer, he had no idea. Usually, Dean wasn't much of a computer-freak. Sam was their man when it came to computers and the internet.

"Her internal organs were melted," Dean answered matter of factly, after a few seconds of hesitant silence. Sam made a face and looked at the photographs of the dead girl.

"Please warn us _before_ you upchuck your food, so we can pull over," Dean said jokingly as he heard the papers rustle.

Sam looked at the pretty redhead. She had nasty bruises on her neck, and her eye sockets seemed to be empty. Something sticky hung to her cheeks and in her hair, and Sam guessed that had formerly been her eyes and brain. He gulped. There was written '_or here_' in bright red lipstick on her forehead. An arrow ran over her nose and led to her mouth. Her lips wore the same color lipstick. Sam frowned.

"Sammy?" Dean turned around as he hadn't had a response from his brother, "You okay? Are you going to be sick? Do we have to pull over?"

"What?" Sam looked up from the picture and blinked at the older Winchester, "No, no, I'm fine. Why is there '_or here_' written on her forehead?"

Dean pulled the folder from Sam's hands and quickly flipped through the pictures. He handed Sam two and Sam held them next to each other. Oh, now he understood.

She was completely naked and the same sticky, ew-y thing that had been in her hair was also sticking to her legs. Yum. But he now understood the '_or here'_. The same red lipstick had been used to write on her sagged stomach (of course it was sagged, her organs were _melted_). It read '_take me here'_ and the arrow led to between her legs. Sam blushed. On the other picture, someone had turned her on her stomach. _'Or here'_ was written on her lower back, with the arrow leading to her ass. Sam quickly gave back the pictures.

"Still okay, Sammy-boy?" Dean asked. He may have sounded playful, but Sam could see his brother was worried about him.

"Sure," Sam answered quickly. Okay, he may have felt slightly uneasy and a tiny bit queasy, but there was no need to worry Dean and dad, "What do the police make of it?"

"They have no idea how she melted, obviously," John said, "They're still sticking to someone strangled her to death. Apparently she was quite the… ah… maneater." John censored himself.

"Maneater?" Sam asked, surprised. He was wondering how the dead girl could have eaten men. Maybe that was why she was dead. She probably was a supernatural man-eating monster.

"Dad means she was a slut," Dean laughed.

Oh. That explained a lot.

Actually, it really did explain a lot. It explained the lipstick-words on her body and why she was naked. It also explained that she didn't literally eat men. But who would have killed her?

"A jealous boyfriend?" Sam wondered out loud.

"Possibly," John nodded, "Maybe a jealous ex or just someone she'd slept with."

"It could also be the girlfriend of someone she'd slept with," Dean offered. John nodded some more.

"That's what the two of you are going to find out. Lincoln High will be your new school," John said, "Find out as much as you can about Tatiana Hodgins. Her enemies, her lovers, her friends, her history. I'll be interviewing the family."

"But how did she _melt_?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Witchcraft?" John offered, "Maybe someone made a deal with a demon. It's even possible they used some normal, regular chemicals. But let's not get our hopes up. It probably isn't just some psychotic kid with a chemical set. I have a very strong feeling about this being something supernatural."

They all relapsed into their own thoughts. Sam stared out of the window. Sure, he was glad he'd be able to join in the hunt. Really join in, since the killer had struck at the school they were about to attend. On the other hand, he wished he could have stayed in Prescott, the place they'd stayed at 2 hunts ago. He'd actually made a friend there. Tom Payne had been a short, shy kid. But he'd been real smart and really nice to him. But when was life ever fair and easy? His dad had found the hunt in Las Vegas and they'd left. He knew he'd never see Tom again. Even though he'd promised he'd write him. What address would Tom be able to write back to? _The Impala, 666 Hunters Road, anywhere in the States_? It really just was unfair.

But hey, at least life wasn't unfair to _just_ him, was it? Look at that poor girl whose murder they were investigating. She was a year younger than Dean and dead as a doornail. She would never walk in the sun again, never kiss a boy again (maybe _that_ was for the best, but still), never hug her mother or father again. He didn't even know if she had siblings. If she had… he couldn't imagine losing Dean. He'd die if he lost Dean, he was certain of that. Dean was his everything. He was his brother, his best friend and occasionally, his father and mother. The thought that he might lose Dean made his throat dry and thick. He glanced at his brother, who appeared to be looking at himself in the mirror.

Sam shook his head in amusement.

By the time they drove onto the parking lot of the motel where they'd be staying, Sam had fallen asleep. While John went to get the keys, Dean stretched his legs and looked at his kid brother. An affectionate smile played around his lips and he opened the door Sam was lying against.

"Whoah!" Sam yelped as he fell out of the car and against Dean.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Dean laughed as he pulled his sleepy brother to his legs.

"Are we there yet?" Sam asked and yawned. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around.

"Yeah," Dean opened the trunk and grabbed his bag, "Dad's checking in."

Sam slung his own duffel over his shoulder and they waited for their father in silence. When John came back, he tossed the keys to Dean and demanded the car keys back.

"We have two rooms," John said, looking at both his boys, "Sam, you and Dean are sharing a room. I'll get the one next to it. _Behave_."

_That's an order._

Sam and Dean nodded and said "Yes sir," in unison.

"Good," John locked the car and they walked to their rooms, "Go to bed. _Both_ of you. Make sure you're up early, 'cause you're going to school tomorrow."

"Night, dad," Dean said and disappeared into their room. Sam looked at his father and smiled at him.

"Good night, daddy," he said. John smiled back and ruffled his hair.

"Sleep tight, kiddo."

The next day went like so many other days had gone: Sam and Dean had to stand in front of the class as the teacher introduced them. When the teacher asked the class to say hi, no one said a word. There were just curious glances. Sam noticed someone glaring at him. When the teacher asked them if they wanted to say something about themselves, both boys shook their heads. Dean put on his brave face and told the teacher that there was really nothing to say, and that he wouldn't be staying long enough anyway. He didn't say why. If the other students thought it was because he got kicked off school so often, then that was a good thing. It would seem like he was a cool and reckless guy and it would totally boost his image. Girls would think he was an attractive, unreachable totally awesome kind of knight, and he might pick up one of the pretty cheerleaders. It was not because he was on a job that he couldn't have any fun.

"Just go sit in the back, Sam," the teacher said, and Sam self-consciously made his way through the desks. Someone stuck his foot out and he stumbled, hitting his knee against a chair. Hard. The class giggled.

"Watch where you're going, _freak_," the person the chair belonged to said loudly and the kids laughed louder. Sam blushed and stared at the floor, quickly passing the last few meters to his appointed desk. By the time he sat down, his teacher had calmed the class down again. Here and there someone was whispering and looking over their shoulders to stare at him.

Sam pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper and made notes, concentrating very hard on the teacher and her class, so he wouldn't have to notice the other kids anymore.

Oh boy, did he wish they'd stayed in Prescott. Then Tom and he would be passing notes to each other and he wouldn't mind the stares and the whispering so much. Tom stuttered, but he was awesome. And he would tell Sam to ignore the others. They only paid attention to him because he was a shiny new toy. Maybe it was because of his incredible good looks. Yeah _right_. Sam softly snorted. It was Dean who had inherited the 'incredible good looks'. But at least it was him who'd gotten the brain. Not that Dean was stupid, of course.

Sam sighed and the teacher continued her class, oblivious of the whispers and giggles.

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><p><strong>So, I've been playing with this story-line for some time now :) I'm still plotting all the details, but I've really thought this story through for once, so I think this is going to turn out pretty good. Or at least I hope so, and I think it's going to turn out okay.<strong>

**For once, not an OC centered story from me, but a story really focusing on Dean and Sam and a hunt. So yeah, a real Casefic for once :) Go me ;)**

**Either way, I'm looking forward to write the rest :) If everything goes well, the first few chapters should follow pretty quickly. **

**Reviews are very welcome. Good and bad.**

**- Lune x  
><strong>


	2. New in Town

**Chapter 2: New in town**

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><p><em>'Cause I know how it feels to be alone<br>When strangers only make you feel the cold  
>You never ever felt so far from home<br>You never felt so far from home_

_I'm gonna take you out tonight_  
><em>I'm gonna make you feel alright<em>

_**Little Boots – New In Town**_

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><p>Dean and Sam struggled through their days at their own pace. Sam kept his head ducked down and tried to avoid all eye contact. He just wished the day would be over already, so he could go home to his brother and father. He hated being the new kid, being the center of all attention. Especially when he realized that the kids really didn't want a newcomer. This seemed to be a pretty tight group he'd been dropped in and they were not ready to open up.<p>

When Sam asked a sweet looking girl the way to the cafeteria, she gave him very detailed instructions. He thanked her maybe three times and followed them. When he was at the point she'd lead him to, he realized that it was very much not the cafeteria she'd sent him to. In contrary. He seemed to be in some sort of restricted area, 'cause the teacher he met in the corridor scolded at him and threatened to give him detention.

"I'm sorry!" Sam hastily apologized, "I'm new here. It's my first day and they told me this was the way to the cafeteria."

The stern looking man shook his head and sighed loudly, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, "You're not even at the right floor, kid."

The man gave him other directions and when Sam followed these, he noticed he did end up at the cafeteria. He sighed in relieve and entered the room to get his food.

At the same time, Dean was trying to get a conversation started with a cute blonde. He was throwing all his charms in the game, but he didn't seem to have much success with her. She walked away from him, straight towards her friends, giggling behind her hand and pointing at him. They whispered heatedly at each other and Dean could just imagine what they were saying.

_What a loser._

"Hey!" someone called and Dean turned around.

A group of teenagers his age were standing about 2 feet away from him. The guy whom Dean presumed was their leader was a blond guy of his age, maybe a little older. But then again, he looked older than 17 as well. He was muscular and wearing a long black leather coat over a black shirt and dark pants. He was what girls would call handsome and looking bored. His hair was combed back and he had had a bit of a beard. It may have seemed weird on any other boy their age, but it gave him a mature and slightly dangerous look.

On his right hand, there was a slightly shorter Hispanic guy. He had black hair and a tanned skin. He seemed to be wearing black eyeliner, which made Dean highly uncomfortable. He was dressed in black as well, and for some reason, he seemed dangerous. Even though he was wearing freaking make-up.

On the blond guy's left side, there was the strangest girl he'd ever seen. She was a really tiny person, with enormous boobs. She wasn't very pretty though: she was wearing too much make-up and her shoulder-long straight hair had been dyed at some point, but it had grown out a couple of inches. And it had been _pink_ dye to cover her dark brown, almost black hair. She had a big nose with a piercing through it. Her eyebrow and lip were pierced as well, and her ear was hidden under a good ten earrings. She was clothed in a too short _leopard_-print dress and black boots.

There was a fourth member to their pack. She was not much bigger than the weird girl, but loads prettier. She had long, wavy brown hair. She had dyed her hair as well, but less explicit: one lock of hair on the left side of her face was a very light blond. She had big brown eyes and her arms were covered in tattoos. Not the obvious big-skull-with-flames or colorful landscapes or anything. It was more as if someone had painted on her with a marker. There were delicate lines, some in black, some in red and a name. She wore a short black skirt and a striped shirt. She smiled at him.

"You're new here, aren't you?" the blond gang-leader asked.

"That obvious?" Dean shot back. The one with the pink hair laughed.

"Yeah," Blond-guy nodded, "You were hitting on Joyce Ford."

"So?"

"She's a lesbian. Everyone knows."

"Oh."

_Oh!_

Pinky laughed louder and Dean felt himself slightly flush. Well, that had been awkward.

"Don't worry," Packleader said, "We'll take care of you. I'm Daniel Parker, that's Paco Alvarez. The hot one over here is Alexis Fischer," he was pointing to Pinky, "And the silent one is Amy Reed. We're the Outcasts."

He said 'Outcasts' like it was a title to be proud of. He wondered if he really looked that much like an outcast. He probably did. With all the travelling and hunting he'd never made an actual friend before. It must show that he wouldn't find any friends here either. But the Outcasts seemed to be willing to talk to him. That was nice, wasn't it? Plus, he'd be able to gather some information on the case if he'd be able to befriend some people.

"Dean Winchester," Dean said.

"So, Dean," Daniel asked and he laid an arm over Dean's shoulder, pulling him along, "Where are you from?"

"Everywhere," Dean shrugged, "My dad's a salesman."

"Boooring," Alexis said and she rolled her eyes.

"Alexis," Daniel snapped. She held up her hands in defeat.

"What?" she asked, "Salesman is a boring job."

"Eh…" Dean didn't really know what to say to that.

"What class do you have after lunch?" Daniel asked. Dean grabbed his timetable and showed it to the rest.

"Ah yes, Amy told me you have psychology with her," Daniel said, pointing to the class where he'd been introduced that morning. So it was Amy's doing that these guys now talked to him, "Mmh you have history after lunch… well, that's boring. Ms Dunn is even older than her subject. You can skip that easily, she won't notice you're missing. We all take history and we skip it all the time. Good, that's settled then, you just come with us this afternoon."

Wouldn't he get a say in this? It wasn't like he'd never skipped classes before, but to have someone tell him he was going to skip that class without discussion, that was a bit hard to take. That was like an order, and he didn't mind his dad's orders, but to have someone he barely knew order him around was slightly different.

But he'd have to choose. He could either go with these guys and make some allies. Then he wouldn't have to face school all alone and maybe he might have some fun during the classes instead of just being bored out of his ass. Or he could refuse and go to history, because he didn't like being bossed around by some kids.

Whom was he kidding? Of course he wouldn't go to history. They could boss him all they wanted; at least he wouldn't have to face school on his own anymore! This was so great. This was close to perfect. And they may not be the most popular kids at school, they probably knew a lot about a lot of people and they might be able to help him with the case.

"Sure," Dean said, and he grinned.

"Awesome," Daniel pulled him along and turned to Amy, "Get us some food Ames. We'll see you at the lake."

"Okay," Amy said. She had a soft voice that went well with her soft eyes and smile. She really seemed to be the sweet one out of them all. Paco hadn't said anything yet so far, "Alexis, you coming?"

Alexis looked from Daniel to Amy and nodded. It seemed that for every move they made, they had to ask Daniel's permission. Dean's first impression that Daniel was the leader really seemed to be true.

"So?" Dean asked about 40 minutes later. They were sitting at the small lake (it was more a pond than a lake, but still) and eating the food Alexis and Amy had gotten them. Classes had started again, but since the pond was out of view of the building, no one noticed them, "I heard someone died the other night?"

"Oh yeah," Alexis immediately said, "That cheerleader… Tatiana Hodgins? We had Spanish together, she was a real bitch."

"What happened to her?" Dean asked. Like he didn't know.

"She was strangled in the art class," Paco said. He had a soft voice, maybe a bit feminine, but there was a certain authority in it. He reminded Dean of an old, wise man who'd not be the town's chief, but the wise elder who'd give the decisive advice.

"Who do you think did it?" It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?

"Jeffrey, that's for sure," Alexis said. Dean raised his eyebrows and motioned to give him more information.

"Oh right…" she caught on, "Well, Jeffrey is… _was_ her boyfriend. But everyone knows she cheated on him with the entire football team. Jeffrey is on the basketball team. I hear she had an orgy with the swimming team."

Wow, seemed like Tatiana's sex life had been even busier than his. And Dean had quite the experience. But he'd never had an orgy with the swimming team. Maybe he should try that some time. With the female swimming team, of course.

"Anyway," Daniel jumped in, "Apparently he found out. Or maybe he'd known all along, who knows. Either way, someone told him about Tatiana's adventures and they had a big fight in the corridors. The teachers had to break them up, he was about ready to beat her up."

"He kept yelling '_I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you!'_" Alexis added, "A few hours later, she died. They found her the next morning."

"Heavy," Dean breathed.

"They have Jeffrey in custody," Amy said, "I just don't think he did it."

"Oh come _on_ Ames!" Alexis shrieked, "Of course he did it! He told her he'd do it and now she's dead. Who else would have done it?"

"I don't know," Amy shrugged, "Matt stands a good chance as well. He's one of her lovers, but he's so possessive. I heard him talking to her last week. He said that if he couldn't have her all for himself, no one could."

"Matt didn't kill Tatiana," Alexis said with a lot of venom in her voice.

"Just because you had a thing with him doesn't mean he's a saint!" Amy defended herself, "I'm worried about you Alexis, what if he comes after you as well?"

"He won't," Alexis snapped, "He's not the killer. He doesn't have it in him."

Dean leaned back and watched the two girls quarrel about whether or not Matt could have killed anyone. Daniel and Paco seemed amused and both lit up a cigarette. They offered Dean one as well, but he friendly refused. His dad would kill him if he started smoking. He'd bring himself and his family in danger on a hunt, and he couldn't risk that.

While Dean was sitting at the pond, Sam was back in class. He'd never been so glad lunch break was over. The Cafeteria had been a zoo. There was no one to keep an eye on the freshmen eating their lunch and the kids used that in their advance. Everyone was yelling and laughing and pointing at him. He heard everyone talk about _'The new kid, you know, the weird one'_. Someone screamed at him to go back to where he'd come from.

_Go home, freak._

He didn't even have a home.

He didn't understand what he'd done this time to deserve this. Was it the clothes? He wore Dean's hand-me-downs, and they didn't all fit and some of the colors had faded. Maybe it was just because he was the new kid. They'd get over it as soon as they were used to him and he wasn't the new kid anymore. It could also be because of the murdered girl. It happened a lot that people grouped together when someone had been killed.

That didn't mean it was fair to Sam.

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><p><strong>So, to be completely honest: I don't like the song I used ^^ I just found the lyrics fitting :p <strong>

**Yay for chapter 2 ^^ **

**oh btw, all mistakes are mine: if you see any, please point them out :)**

**- Lune x**


	3. Tea For One

**Chapter 3: Tea for One**

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><p><em>How come twenty four hours, baby sometimes slip into days?<br>A minute seems like a lifetime, baby when I feel this way.  
>There was a time that I stood tall in the eyes of other men<em>

_**Led Zeppelin – Tea For One**_

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><p>The next day went pretty much like the first. Dean drove him and Sam to school and their father went to the library to dig through old papers that could have something to do with the murder case they were on. Even though they thought this was the work of a jealous ex-boyfriend, it wouldn't hurt to see if anyone else had died at Lincoln High.<p>

Unlike their first day, when Dean got out of the Impala, someone walked up to him.

"Hi Dean," Amy greeted. Alexis made a face at Sam and ignored him. Dean quickly waved his brother goodbye and followed the two girls.

"You don't hang out with that monkey, do you?" Alexis asked. Dean laughed.

"Monkey?" he asked, "You mean Sammy?"

"All kids are stinky little monkeys," Alexis explained herself, "Can't they make their own friends instead of hanging around older siblings?"

"You have any younger sisters or brothers?" Dean asked. Alexis shrugged.

"She's got 2 younger sisters," Amy whispered, "And 3 older brothers. She doesn't like them very much."

"Who doesn't like whom very much?" Daniel asked, and he laid his arms around Alexis' and Amy's necks. Possessive much?

"Dean hangs out with his kid brother," Alexis told him. Daniel looked over his shoulder to give Dean a long, slightly amused look.

"Cute," Daniel said, "You braid each other's hair as well? Make cute little cupcakes together?"

Dean flushed and quickly shook his head. Really, he'd just brought Sam to school, what was the big deal? Okay, Sam and he had a good bond, but was that so bad? If you looked at the lives they led… Sam was the only friend he'd ever had.

However, now that he actually was making real friends, maybe it was time to see his brother for what he really was: his brother. Now he wouldn't have to _use_ Sam anymore. His brother would finally be able to grow up and make his own friends, instead of always having to be there for when Dean needed a friend. The kid would be so happy if he heard Dean had made friends. Now he wouldn't be able to tell Dean to '_make some friends and leave him to do his homework in peace_' anymore.

"Nah man," Daniel said with a lopsided grin, "It's cool. It's not because Alexis could strangle her siblings that we all have to be monsters, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied, "Whatever. You have any siblings, Dan?"

It was like he'd switched a button: Daniel's smile disappeared and his face just closed. Dean saw a trace of rage in his eyes, before his poker face mask was in place. He let go of the girls and seemed to be biting down hard; the only trace of emotion left on his face was his fixed jaw.

"Nah," he said in a seemingly carefree tone. Then he turned around and left to greet Paco. Dean frowned and stared after his new friend. What the hell?

"Did I say something?" Dean asked, confused.

"Don't mention his siblings," Amy whispered. Yeah well, it was a little late for that, wasn't it?

"Really," Alexis wore a serious face, "Don't."

"Okay…" Dean still didn't understand, "Why not?"

Alexis heaved a deep sigh and shook her head, slowly. Amy bit her lip and rubbed her arm.

"His sister died a couple of years ago," she mumbled, flushing at her own tattling.

"Oh…" Dean said, "That sucks."

"Yeah…" Amy rubbed harder and Dean noticed a bruised, "She had cancer."

"_Oh_…" Dean didn't really know what else to say, so he just shut up.

"Are you going to trigonometry?" Alexis changed the subject, "I'm not going and neither is Paco. You can come with us. Amy and Dan have chemistry, they can't skip that."

Alexis must have seen Dean's eyes wander to the more silent girl. Should he go with Paco and Alexis? Well, it wasn't like trigonometry was interesting and it wasn't like he would need it in the real world, so… what would it hurt to skip it? It was not like anyone would miss him, was it? And who was going to call on him? The Outcasts wouldn't say anything, and the others didn't care about him. Hell, the others probably didn't even know he _existed_.

"Nah," Dean said, trying to sound as cool as he could, "I'm coming with you guys."

"Al right, baby!" Alexis cheered, before she ran to Paco, "Hey Paco, why do seagulls fly over the sea?"

Dean didn't hear the answer to that joke and Amy must have seen him looking confused.

"Because if they flew over the bay they would be bagels," she explained. Dean blinked and stared at her for a second, before he burst out laughing.

"It's her favorite joke," Amy explained, "I don't know why she loves it so much. Last year, all she said was '_What's a fish with no eyes'_?"

"So…" Dean held up his hand to greet Paco, "What is it?"

"A fsh," Amy made an annoyed look at the old joke. Dean lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"I don't get it," he mumbled.

"Doesn't matter," Amy said and she tucked a string of hair behind her ears, before she briefly hugged Paco. They barely touched, as if it was required for her to hug him, but she didn't really want to. Daniel's rules most likely.

"Are we going out tonight?" Paco asked.

"Can't," Amy immediately said, tensing up. Paco nodded understanding and Alexis patter her shoulder.

"Dan?" Paco turned his attention to their leader. He shook his head and just like that they'd all agreed that they wouldn't go out that night. For a second, Dean wondered if these people were crazy. Then he thought of a friendship full of trust.

He snorted.

Sam was standing in the corridor, waiting for the door to their class to open. Maybe today would be a better day. Maybe the kids had already forgotten they didn't quite like him. Maybe they'd leave him alone. He was used to being the new kid. He was used to being alone. What he wasn't used to yet, were the other children 'teasing' him like they did. That didn't usually happen. Sure, every now and then there'd be an ass amongst the kids in his classes who'd call him names and who'd try to make everyone hate him. But that didn't usually work out for them. Not only was Dean always there to protect him – even though that was sometimes very annoying – it just hadn't ever happened that _no one_ spoke to him, and that _everyone_ disliked him. That was new.

But, since he wouldn't get his hopes down: this was a new day, with new opportunities. He might make a friend today, and the stupid kids might have forgotten about him already.

"Hey Lose-Chester!" someone yelled. _Or not_.

Sam turned away from the kid who'd yelled at him, hoping the door would just open and the teacher would come to collect them. They wouldn't dare do anything if the teacher was there.

"Hey Lose-Chester," the same kid repeated and he pushed Sam against the wall, "I was talking to you, loser," he heard several people snigger, "Are you scared? You want your mommy to come and save you?"

Sam wanted to yell: '_I don't have a mother, fat ugly bastard.'_ But he didn't. It wouldn't make any difference, it would just give them some more material to use against them. His eyes darted around, going over the faces off the other people in the corridor. Some were looking at him, openly gazing and pointing, whispering behind their hands. Others just looked away and pretended it wasn't happening.

This was a disaster.

"What's wrong whiny baby boo?" the fat teenager asked. He was about Sam's age, but he looked older. And really, he was fat. Fat and blond with grey eyes that were way to close to Sam's face. Sam didn't like this at all.

He tried to shove the kid away, but even though he was a better fighter – or at least, he assumed he was – the fatty was heavier and therefore stronger. He pushed one of his meaty pink arms against Sam's chest and shoved him back against the wall, keeping him there.

"Let me go," Sam yelled, doing his very best to kick his opponent.

"Gary," someone said urgently, and the fat guy looked away to see his friend pointing to something Sam couldn't see.

"Shit," Gary mumbled. He pinched Sam's cheek and brought his mouth very close to Sam's ear. He could feel Gary's breath tickle his neck and ear, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"I'm going to make you wish you were never born, fag," he mumbled. Sam's heartbeat sped up and he pushed against Gary's chest to get him off of him. To his surprise, the bully let go and went to stand somewhere else, talking to the girl who'd given him the false directions the other day.

A second later, the teacher brushed past him and opened the door. Sam almost snorted. Of course Gary had let go of him.

"Winchester," she snapped, "Don't lean against the walls."

Don't lean against… _What?_ He'd just been threatened and all she could say was 'don't lean against the walls'? How was this in any way fair? How come she hadn't noticed Gary's picking on him? Was she _blind_?

Sam decided that she must have been indeed blind. And deaf, for that matter. And stupid, because when Gary entered, he gave her a bright smile and she smiled right back at him. He lingered around her desk and told her something in a low voice. She nodded and gave him another smile.

Yeah, definitely stupid. It didn't surprise him that she was a blonde.

She started a long lecture about the currencies and Bretton Woods. When she asked a question, Sam was the only one to raise his hand. It was not like he was so extremely interested in economy, but he'd seen this part of the material already at his last school. Well, not the one in Las Vegas of course. He hadn't gone to school there.

"What a nerd," someone whispered too loud. Sam knew it had been meant for him to hear and he blushed slightly, ducking his eyes.

"Yeah, total loser," someone else whispered back. They both turned around to stare at him and Sam tried his very best to ignore this. He didn't raise his hand again during the rest of the course, even though he knew all the answers.

His next class, Latin, was even worse.

He was good at Latin. Really good. But what did you expect, really? All the incantations and exorcisms were in Latin. He was way ahead on the other students, and they didn't seem to like that.

"Geek," someone coughed, as if that would be less obvious.

"Dork!" someone else yelled, when the teacher had his back to the class to write something on the blackboard. His neighbor – a girl with her hair in a long braid on her back – distinctively turned away from him to gossip loudly with her friend a few seats over.

"God, he reeks!" she told her, and waved her hand in front of her face, "Someone needs some deodorant."

Her friend, a tall, skinny girl with braces laughed loudly. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard and Sam shuddered.

Music, the last class before lunch, was hell.

He couldn't sing even if his life depended on it, and the other children made fun of him all the way through the hour. The teacher, a young pretty woman named Miss Canterbury, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown herself, and she didn't need anyone else's misery on top of that, so she just ignored the name calling and pretended she was standing in front of an amazing group of really sweet kids.

Not.

Someone pulled his hair and when Sam turned around to scold at that person, no one seemed to be sitting in the chair behind him. Someone giggled on his left and he glared at the girl. She stared right back at him.

Sam sighed. He could do this. The day was almost over. He only had lunch, Geography and ICT left. And he liked ICT. He was good with computers and programming. His father and brother never understood that part of him, but it came in real handy for research. Geography was a bummer. He didn't like it, even though he was good at reading coordinates. But that wasn't what they did in geography. No, they studied the rivers of _Africa_. I mean, who cared about the _rivers_ in _Africa_? Not he, so much was for sure.

When the bell rang, he was able to locate the cafeteria on his own. Thank God, really, because if he'd have to ask another student again, he'd die. Well, not literally, but it would mean more embarrassing scenes. He waited in line and filled his tray with puree and pudding. He liked pudding. He knew Dean liked it as well, and he could already imagine the excited grin on his brother's face when he would find out what the dessert was. He smiled softly.

He saw a table with only a few occupants and approached it slowly, taking in the people that were sitting there. They seemed like normal, maybe a little geeky persons like himself. They wouldn't mind if he sat at the end of their table, surely.

"Hey, eh…" he nervously smiled at them, "Is this seat taken?"

"No, go ahead, take it," the only boy said. Sam sighed in relief and started a more genuine, thankful smile, "Take it _way_ over there."

The girls at his table laughed out loud as the boy pointed to the furthest corner of the room. Sam recognized chalkboard-laugh from the skinny girl from his Latin class. He sighed. He should have known they wouldn't let him sit with him. Even the unpopular kids wouldn't have him.

Dejectedly, he walked away from the laughing kids. He looked around to see if he maybe saw Dean somewhere, but he didn't see him. His brother probably had another lunch-hour.

He should have seen it coming.

Of course he should have, but he was so lost in thought, thinking about Dean, that he didn't. And when he noticed what was going on, it was already too late.

Gary walked towards him and slammed his fist up, against the bottom of Sam's tray. The hard wood collided with his teeth and his pudding and puree went all over his shirt. The plate fell to the ground with the sharp jingling noise of breaking china. Everyone fell silent and he could feel hundreds of eyes staring at him. Heat crept up his face and he could feel his eyes burning in humiliation and from shock.

"Watch it, _yokel_," Gary sneered loudly. Sam drew in a shaking breath at the same time all the conversations started again. Everywhere he listened in, he could hear them talking about him and about what a total loser he was. He kneeled and placed the shards of plate on his tray, disposing all of it in the garbage can as he walked out of the too hot, hostile place.

* * *

><p><strong>A thank you to all you lovely people who've added this story to their story alert or favorite stories, and of course to the reviewers :) You all make my day :)<br>**

**I hope you liked this chapter. More will follow soon :)**

**Oh, and I have to credit _The Simpsons_ (yes, the tv-series). The 'Is this seat taken' conversation comes directly from_ Season 20, episode 18:_ _Father knows worst_. I was watching the _Phoebe Prince _story on TV the other day, while my brother was watching that episode from the Simpsons next to me on his laptop. When I heard those words, I just knew I had to use them.  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	4. Paperthin Hymn

**Chapter 4: Paperthin Hymn**

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><p><em>When your only friends are hotel rooms<br>Hands are distant lullabies  
>If I could turn around I would tonight<em>

_August evenings_  
><em>Bring solemn warnings<em>  
><em>To remember to kiss the ones you love goodnight<em>

_**Anberlin – Paperthin Hymn**_

* * *

><p>Sam had locked himself in a bathroom stall for the rest of the lunch break. He'd eaten an apple and some cookies he'd stuffed in his pockets that morning and he'd tried to clean his shirt a bit. It was of no use. The chocolate pudding, no matter how good it tasted, wouldn't come off his shirt. Not even when he took it off and stuck it in the sink to rinse it out. He just made a bigger mess.<p>

He sighed and put his wet shirt back on.

The last two hours of the day, Sam had tried to be invisible. In Geography, people had actually left him alone. They had a very stern teacher, Mr. Nutters, who didn't tolerate talking in his class, unless you raised your hand and it was Geography-related. Apparently, the other kids in his class knew and respected that. In return, Mr. Nutters was an interesting teacher, who managed to make the rivers of Africa slightly less boring then they were. He'd even brought a short movie to class for his pupils to watch.

In ICT, people were allowed to talk and discuss. Of course, they didn't discuss the actual subject. Sam overheard 2 girls talking about the party they were attending that night and what they were going to wear and who was coming. Unfortunately, he also heard his class whispering about him. Someone rudely asked him what had happened to his shirt, at which everyone who'd been at the cafeteria at the moment of doom had laughed. Sam tried to ignore it all.

He sighed in relief when the final bell rang. He saved his work, handed his teacher the Floppy disc, went to his locker to grab his stuff and made his way out of the building as fast as he could. He actually _ran_ to the Impala and waited there until Dean would arrive. All around him, people got in their cars and drove home. Those who were still too young to drive made their way to the waiting yellow busses. He was glad he didn't have to take those.

"See you tomorrow, Whine-Chester!" someone yelled and the guy's friends burst out laughing. Sam ducked his head and wished Dean was there.

"I see you're making friends, Sammy-boy," Dean sounded cheerful and when Sam looked up, he noticed he wasn't alone. Sam didn't say anything, just shrugged.

Dean pursed his lips, but didn't say anything either. Both Alexis and Daniel gave Sam annoyed looks. Paco ignored him altogether and Amy gave Sam a small smile, before looking away as well.

"Monkeys," Alexis repeated her words from earlier that day, nodding. Daniel and Paco laughed. Dean stole a glance at his brother, who was looking confused. He didn't get the joke. Good.

"See you tomorrow, Dean," Daniel said and patted him on the back. He came closer to Dean's ear and whispered, "Ditch the kid."

Dean stared at his friend in shock and Daniel winked playfully at him.

"I'm just kidding, Dean," Daniel laughed and rolled his eyes. But Dean saw the angry look that was shot at his little brother, even though it only lasted a fragment of a second. Dean nodded.

"Yeah," he grinned, "See you tomorrow."

Dean opened the Impala and Sam quickly crawled in, closing the door and pulling his feet on the seat so he could rest his head on his knees. Dean waved at his friends and got in the driver's seat. Sam was silent as he drove off the parking lot.

"What happened to your shirt?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"I spilt food on it," he mumbled.

"Awkward," Dean commented. Sam sighed and looked away to start out of the window.

"Geez, Sammy," Dean huffed, "Just because you're clumsy as hell doesn't mean you have to be pissed at me."

"I'm not," Sam softly said, still refusing to look at Dean. He left it in the middle whether he was not clumsy, or not pissed at Dean. Really, he was neither. His eyes were burning, but he refused to cry. He didn't want Dean to see how weak he was. How much of a loser.

"Whatever," Sam didn't need to see Dean to know that he was rolling his eyes.

He briefly considered telling Dean that he hadn't just been clumsy, that it had been Gary's fault. He glanced at his brother from under his bangs and decided against it. Sure, Dean might beat up Gary for him, but the problem was that it wasn't _just_ _Gary_. It was _everyone_. Not only would it be impossible for Dean to beat up all the freshmen, the teasing – Sam refused to call it _bullying_ yet – would just get worse if his big brother stood up for him. They'd think he was even more of a pussy than he already was if he let someone else solve his problems.

If he told his dad…

No, his dad wouldn't be able to help him either. He couldn't switch schools because one, there was only one high school in the area and two, they needed him there for the hunt. How could he find out who or what had killed Tatiana if he wasn't there to question and study the students? Not that he'd be able to question much people, but still…

They entered their motel room in silence. Sam took off his shirt and tossed it in the dirty laundry bag. Putting on a clean one, he sat down at the table and grabbed his homework. At least when he was able to concentrate on something, he'd be able to forget what had happened at school today. Dean switched on the TV. Voices boomed through their room.

"Deaaan," Sam sighed, "Can you please turn that down?"

"You're such a killjoy," Dean rolled his eyes, but turned the volume down a bit. He grabbed a coke and a big bag of crisps and launched himself at the couch. Every now and then, Sam could hear him laugh.

A few hours later, there was knock on their door. Dean muted the TV and grabbed his gun. Sam looked up from his homework and reached for his knife. He got up and pointed it towards the door and his brother, who was annoyed at the lack of peephole.

"Who's there?" Dean yelled.

"Dad," their father yelled back. Dean opened the door an inch or two to gaze at the man on the other side and whispered 'christo'. When he was satisfied with the result, he opened the door fully and let his father in.

"Why didn't you use your key?" Dean asked as he closed the door again. John shot him an annoyed look and showed him his arms full of bags. Dean curiously peered inside one.

"Hey Sam," John greeted and put the bags with diner food on the kitchen counter, "Get your stuff off the table so we can eat."

Sam nodded and closed his books. He was as good as ready anyway. He had an English test tomorrow, but he'd already seen that part of the subject at his last school, and he had to make some exercises for maths. Those weren't too hard either.

"Found anything?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food, about ten minutes later.

"Yes, actually," John answered, "Tatiana wasn't the first kid to die at that school. About ten years ago, some kid fell off a flight of stairs and broke his neck. I just don't see how it's related to our case. The two have nothing in common: Tatiana was a popular girl and a cheerleader. Apparently she had a very busy social and love life," Dean snorted at that, "Jeremy was a bit of a loner. Didn't have much friends, but he had, in contrary to Tatiana, excellent grades. He was a hard worker. According to the records he may not have been popular, but he wasn't bullied either. Nothing points to a violent death. As far as I can tell, he really just tripped and fell off those stairs."

"Seems like you're not the only clumsy kid there, Sam," Dean joked. Sam glared at him and John cocked an eyebrow.

"Sam?" he asked.

"Thanks jerk," Sam mumbled loud enough for Dean to hear, but silent enough that his father didn't pick up the exact words, "It's nothing sir. I just spilled food on me during lunch."

"You spilled food on yourself?" John asked skeptically. Sam shrugged and lowered his gaze so he wouldn't have to look his father in the eye.

"No big deal," he softly said, "Like Dean said, I was just clumsy."

Like hell he was.

"It was chocolate pudding," Dean was almost shaking with silent laughter, "Made it look like the kid had shit all over him."

Sam blushed furiously and wished his brother would just shut up. It had been embarrassing enough as it was, he didn't need his brother to make a show out of him. He could feel his father's scrutinizing stare and he tried to hide between his shoulders.

"Sam?" John's voice was soft and Dean stopped laughing. It was as if he suddenly noticed how much Sam was hating the situation. He frowned. What was his little brother so worked up about? He'd just been clumsy, right? _Right?_

"I'm fine," Sam whispered. He still didn't dare looking up, afraid that his father would see the shame and weakness in his eyes and loathe him for it. John, of course, wouldn't have any of that. He grabbed his son by the chin and lifted his head so the boy would look at him. Sam held his breath.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything at all?" John asked softly. Sam felt as is his father already knew what was going on, but wanted his son to admit it out loud. He stared at his dad for a long time, considering his options. He really wanted to tell his father, so he could stop it. On the other hand, what could his father do? Nothing. At all.

"No sir," Sam mumbled. He felt bad for lying, but really, there was nothing he _wanted_ to tell his dad, however he kind of wanted to tell him… it was confusing. For once, he just wished the hunt was over already so they could move to the next town. To a new school, where hopefully, people would be nicer.

"Sammy?" John asked again.

"No dad," Sam repeated, louder this time. John frowned, but nodded and let go of his youngest. Sam rubbed his chin, even though his father hadn't hurt him. He was so embarrassed. He wished he could just crawl in bed with the lights out, so that no one would notice him anymore.

"Okay then," John swiftly switched subjects, "Dean, you wash the dishes, Sammy, you dry them."

His sons nodded and went to work, listening to their father talking about the hunt. Dean mentioned Alexis' and Amy's discussion from the day before, suddenly realizing he hadn't told his father about that yet. Their dad added it to his notes and discussed some theories with his sons. For now, all they could really think of, was that one of Tatiana's exes had worked some mojo to punish her for cheating on them.

When John woke his sons up the next morning, it was earlier and more urgent than usually.

"Dean," he said, shaking his eldest's shoulders, "_Dean!_"

"What?" Dean moaned, trying to bury himself under his pillow and covers. Sam pushed himself half up on the other bed to see what was going on. He yawned and sleepily rubbed his eyes. John briefly smiled as he noticed how young his sons really looked when they were still half asleep.

"Wake _up_, Dean," John said again, shaking him some more. Dean groaned and grumbled something. He pushed his father's hands away and opened his eyes to glare at him.

"_What?_" he demanded.

"Another girl died yesterday evening," John informed his sons.

* * *

><p><strong>The shortest chapter so far, I'm afraid. But I wanted to end with a bit of a cliffhanger :) <strong>

**SO much love for all my readers :) You have no idea how amazing you all are!**

**- Lune x**


	5. Moonlight and Vodka

**_! WARN__ING__:__ R__ated T for a reason. There'll be some gore !_**

_Don't tell me I didn't warn you._**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Moonlight and Vodka<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Fix me a drink, make it a strong one,<br>Hey comrade, a drink, make it a long one,  
>My hands are shaking and my feet are numb,<br>My head is aching and the bar's going round,  
>And I'm so down, in this foreign town<em>

_**Chris De Burgh – Moonlight and Vodka**_

* * *

><p>It was silent for a couple of seconds while the news got through Dean's sleepy mind.<p>

"What?" he finally asked.

"Another girl died," John repeated, "She was found by the janitor yesterday evening. I didn't hear the news until now."

"What time is it?" Dean asked.

"5 in the morning," John answered matter-of-factly, like it was not an absurdly early hour. Dean groaned.

"Why are you up at 5 in the morning?" he rolled his eyes, "You know what. Never mind. The girl."

"Another cheerleader," John said, "I need you to break into the morgue's files again. I don't know much about her yet."

"So it wasn't a jealous boyfriend then?" Sam asked.

"Go back to sleep Sammy," his father said softly but sternly. Sam sighed. He knew he would be able to break into the files way faster than Dean and Sam thought his father knew it as well. Maybe Dean needed some more training in that department? Maybe his father feared he wouldn't be ready to face the pictures in the file.

Dean yawned again and crawled out of bed. He looked at his little brother and gave him a small, tired smile before he took their laptop out of its bag and crawled back in bed. He started the computer and waited for an internet connection.

Sam stared at his brother while his fingers hesitatingly went over the keys. Sam's fingers would have flown over those keys. Dean cursed when he did something wrong and Sam smiled. He knew how much his brother hated computers. Well, maybe that was just because his brother hated research. If Dean found out what else you could do on the internet, he probably wouldn't hate it anymore. He grimaced at the thought of what Dean would be able to look up on the internet if only he'd think about it. _Ew_.

"Got it!" Dean suddenly shouted excitedly, "I'm in. Okay, hang on… They brought her in last night, right?"

He typed some more and Sam could see him frowning when he didn't immediately found what he was looking for. Dean wasn't a very patient guy.

"Just keep looking Dean," John encouraged when Dean heaved another frustrated sigh. He nodded and ran his hand over his mouth. Sam grinned a little wider.

"Yes!" Dean finally exclaimed, "I think I found her… Student at Abraham Lincoln High School. Must be her, right?"

"Good job," John praised and he took the laptop out of Dean's hands to search for himself.

"Go back to sleep boys," he said, "Be awake at 7, you have school. I'll fill you in then."

"But dad…" Dean started. John shot him a look. It had been an order.

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled and he pulled his covers back over him, closing his eyes. John left his sons to sleep and went back to his own room.

"Like we'll be able to fall back asleep now," Sam softly complained. Dean hummed something and rolled over. A couple of seconds later Sam could hear his breathing even out and he knew Dean had in fact fallen back asleep. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He was tired as hell, but his curiosity had been spiked and now he really wanted to know more about the girl. He wanted to catch the bad guys and move to a new town.

He closed his eyes and hugged his pillow, sighing again.

To his own surprise when he opened his eyes again, it was because the alarm woke him. Dean was groaning in the bed next to his, reluctant to wake up. Sam blinked slowly against the light and stared at his brother, who'd gone from yawning to stretching.

"Bitch," Dean grumbled without even looking, "Quit the staring."

Sam grinned and yawned. He climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, because if he let Dean go first, he'd never be able to have it. Dean not only usually used all of the hot water, he also took ages in front of the mirror. The pains of being a 17 year old, Sam guessed.

While Sam was in the bathroom, Dean went on a quest for clean clothes. He was certain his Led Zeppelin shirt was clean, the problem was that he didn't remember where he'd put it. He looked up when his father walked in, carrying the open laptop.

"Found anything useful?" Dean asked, shoving aside a pair of socks. Where the hell was his shirt?

"Yes," came the curt answer. Dean frowned, "Come here, Dean."

Dean blinked and closed his duffel again, sitting down next to his father, who placed the laptop in front of him, turning the screen towards his son.

Dean looked at the picture of the girl. She looked positively beautiful and stunning, with long golden hair and huge brown eyes. She could have seriously been a model. If she was still alive, she might have become the next Cindy Crawford, making thousands of dollars a job and being declared one of the hottest people in the world.

"Chrissy Kensinger," John said, "17 years old, cheerleader."

"She's beautiful," Dean sighed.

"Scroll down," John pursed his lips in annoyance at his son's raging hormones. Dean did as he was told.

He gagged at the sight.

"Time of death," John went on, "Around 10 pm. She was found around 11 by the janitor, as I've said before… Dean, are you okay?"

John had noticed how pale his son had gotten and how hard he was breathing. Dean looked away from the screen and nodded. His stomach churned unpleasantly. He didn't think he'd have breakfast today.

Chrissy's hair had been cut short and boyish and it had obviously not been done by a professional hairdresser. What was worse, was that her face seemed to have been melted off. It was red and blistered and her nose and eyelids were gone. Where should have been her eyes were deep black holes and Dean figured her eyes had been melted as well. Her lips were swollen and fishlike. Someone had applied grotesque clown make-up over her distorted features and there were ugly bruises on her neck as well. Unlike Tatiana, she was still wearing all of her clothes.

"God," Dean gagged. John turned the screen away from his oldest and patted him on the arm.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked. Dean nodded brusquely.

"Fine," he gulped. He took a few deep, calming breaths and he was immensely relieved that Sam was still in the bathroom. He didn't want him to see him like this. And he definitely didn't want Sam to see the pictures of the dead girl. He'd already been upset about Tatiana, and there hadn't been much grossness about _her_ body.

"What _happened_ to her?" Dean asked, shaking his head in disbelief, "Did she die the same way? Is it the same murderer?"

"Hi daddy," Sam reemerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping.

"Good morning, Sammy," John said, and he closed the laptop "sleep well?"

"Sure," he sat down at the table as well and looked around for food, "Dean? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine Sammy," Dean gave his brother his most reassuring smile. Sam looked skeptic, but didn't press the matter.

"So…" Sam finally found some bread, "The hunt?"

Dean looked away and John nodded, "As I was saying, it is most likely the same killer. She was strangled, but they're unable to tell whether she was strangled _to death_ or not. Her organs were melted, just like Tatiana's."

"Her face…" Dean shook his head, clearly upset. Sam frowned.

"They poured acid over her," John said in a soft voice.

"Who _does_ something like that?" Dean asked, refusing the food Sam offered him.

"That's what we're supposed to find out," his father answered, "See if you're able to get something from the children at school."

Dean and Sam nodded, but Sam doubted he'd be able to get someone to say something to him other than 'loser' or 'freak'.

"Dean, grab a shower," John said, "And by the way, why was your Zeppelin shirt in the weapon's bag?"

John placed the shirt Dean had been looking for on the table and got up, "Sam, don't forget to brush your teeth."

Sam made a face. What was he, five? He knew he had to brush his teeth and wash behind his ears and grab a clean pair of boxers and socks every day. But he nodded and dad left again, taking the laptop with him.

"Dean…" he asked, "What _happened_ to her face?"

"_Don't_ ask," Dean answered with a sharp intake of breath, "Really. Don't."

"That bad?" he whispered. Dean nodded curtly. He grabbed his shirt and disappeared into the bathroom. Sam sighed, finishing his breakfast. He hoped Dean would hurry in the bathroom, he didn't want to be late for school.

To his surprise, Dean did hurry in the bathroom. That might have had something to do with the fact Sam had used a lot of the hot water, but still, Sam was surprised.

"You ready?" Dean asked and grabbed his bag. Sam nodded and followed him to the Impala. They drove to the school in silence. When they got out of the car, Daniel and Amy quickly walked up to them. Dean barely had the time to lock the car and nod his goodbye to Sam, before he was dragged away by them.

"Have you heard?" Amy asked with big round eyes, "Someone else was killed yesterday."

Dean felt himself pale again at the thought of the once beautiful girl's face, "Yeah, I heard."

"She was the prettiest girl around here," Daniel said, "I hear they mutilated her."

Dean wanted to say that he knew for sure that she'd been mutilated, but he kept his mouth. His friends didn't have to know that he'd broken into the morgue's files that morning. They wouldn't understand.

"Did-" Dean cleared his throat upon hearing how scratchy he sounded, "Did she have anything in common with that other girl?"

"They were both cheerleaders," Amy said, "And close friends, but for the rest… I don't think so."

"I told you Matt didn't do it," Alexis said from behind them. They turned around to see her and Paco walking up to them. Daniel gave her a megawatt smile and a one armed hug. Amy frowned.

"I was just _worried_ about you, Alexis," she sighed, "Are you going to hold that against me?"

They all fell silent for a moment, waiting for Alexis' answer. The two girls stood staring at each other, possibly trying to read the other one's mind.

"Of course not, Ames," Alexis said at last and she threw her arms around the slightly bigger girl, squeezing her tightly, "I know you're just worried. You're my friend and I love you. But you can't just go and accuse my exes of being murderers."

Amy smiled and squeezed back, nodding, "Yeah… I know."

"Good," Alexis planted a kiss on her forehead and grabbed Daniel's arm, "You _never_ guess who I saw yesterday evening."

Daniel swung his arm around the small girl's shoulder and waited for her to continue.

"Francis," she said, and she burst out laughing, "He's in college now. Studies Bio-Chemistry. But boy, he still can't kiss!"

"How many drinks did you have?" Daniel asked softly. A worried look flashed over his face.

"Enough," Alexis mumbled darkly and glared at the floor.

"That bad?" Paco asked.

"You _don't_ want to know," Alexis said and she shot Amy a sorry look, as if she suddenly remembered something, "You…"

"Don't start, Alexis," Amy snapped.

"_So_-rry," Alexis huffed and she pushed Daniel away, "I was just asking."

"Don't."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Both girls sighed and looked away from each other. Dean wondered if he should say something, but Paco shook his head when he opened his mouth.

"Wait," he mouthed. Dean nodded and waited.

Alexis softly bumped Amy's arm with her elbow and Amy winced.

"Sorry," Alexis mumbled.

"Me too," Amy mumbled back. Dean didn't understand. He frowned and wondered what the hell was going on between those two girls. Both Paco and Daniel were looking grim, and Dean guessed that they had been left in on the secret the two A's shared.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered. Daniel looked at him and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Believe me, kid," _Kid?_ "You don't want to know… is that your brother?"

Daniel swiftly changed subjects and pointed to a group of running kids. Dean tried to see if the small boy who was currently up front really was his brother. He feared Daniel was right.

"What is he _doing_?" Paco wondered out loud, "He isn't seriously playing _tag_, is he? God, _freshmen_!"

Okay, Sammy had just officially embarrassed him in front of his friends. He quickly turned away from his little brother and pretended that Sam was not 100 yards away from him, making a fool out of himself with his friends.

"Wanna know something freaky?" Dean changed the subject again, "The killer cut that cheerleader's hair."

"Wanna know something even freakier?" Amy asked, "They were both strangled in the art class."

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><p><strong>Uggh, don't ask. I <em>hate<em> this chapter. It didn't come out right _at all_. That's probably because I've been writing so much lately. Sometimes my imagination and words just get stuck after a while. Even though I know what's supposed to happen in the chapters, sometimes the words just won't come. So don't shoot me. The next chapter should be better ;)**

**For those who've been wondering. The acid on the face part is because I read an article about Katie Piper a few weeks ago. She had acid poured over her as well, so I've been using that story for inspiration.  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	6. Happiness is Overrated

**Chapter 6: Happiness is overrated**

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><p><em>But you know those words that you said<br>They get stuck here in my head  
>And this feeling I dread, it makes me wish I was dead<br>Or just alone instead, I'll be alone instead_

_**The Airborne Toxic Event – Happiness is Overrated**_

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><p>Obviously, Sam hadn't been playing tag.<p>

Sam had been walking to the building, head low, trying to ignore everyone who crossed his path. His father had once told him that ignoring the bastards would result in them leaving him alone, since where was the fun in provoking and bullying someone who didn't react? His dad had also repeatedly said to lay low. _Don't_ _attract attention to yourself, boy._

_How will you ever be a good hunter if you keep drawing attention to yourself, Sam?_

_Be a man, kid!_

Unfortunately, his old man's wise words didn't apply to the group of kids that had been smoking near the entrance. He didn't see them nudging each other, pointing to him and whispering loudly, but he did notice them standing in front of the door.

"Let me through," Sam said with an annoyed sigh.

"Don't think so, Lose-Chester," the skinny girl from his Latin class said. He should really learn her name.

"Just…" Sam took a deep breath, "Just let me through."

"Eh, let me think about that," she turned towards her friends and back to Sam, "No."

They all burst out laughing and she threw her cigarette at him.

"Better run, Lose-Chester," she said in an ominous voice and jumped off the wall she'd been sitting on.

"Run, Loosy-Loosy," her friend chipped in and threw her stub at him as well. The others followed their examples. One of them actually threw a book at his head, so Sam scoffed at himself for being such a coward and bolted. He could hear them running after him, but at least nothing solid connected with his head or body.

He ran for a few minutes, before he realized they weren't following him anymore. He slowed down and eventually stopped running. He put his hands on his knees and panted. It took him longer than usual for his breath and heart to go back to its usual.

Sam entered the building through the backdoors and warily made his way to his locker to grab his stuff for English. He couldn't believe he needed _three_ books for one subject. And not just thin books, but really fat volumes that weighed a ton each and had unusually large shapes.

He was running a little late, thanks to his dad's murder update from that morning and the kids who'd decided to throw things at him, so he hurried through the corridors. Of course, his English class _had_ to be at the other side of the school than his locker.

He was half running when he slammed into something solid. Or more like: something solid slammed into it. His books fell out of his hands and onto the ground and he almost fell as well. He looked up to a sneering face and if he thought it had happened on accident, those thoughts left him rather quickly.

"Watch it!" the person who'd ran into him snapped and he purposely stepped on Sam's open books, crumpling and smearing the pages as he did so. Sam winced as he actually heard one of the pages rip. Someone laughed and the boy walked past him. He kneeled and tried to un-wrinkle some of the pages, before giving up on them and just quickly pulled them back into his arms.

He really had to run now.

"Mr. Winchester," his teacher said, when Sam threw open the door, panting, "You're late."

_No shit, Sherlock_, like Dean would say.

"I know," he said, blushing slightly, still panting, "I… eh… there was… uh…"

"I don't want to hear it, Winchester," she snapped. Why was it that all his teachers did nothing but snap at him?

"Sorry," he mumbled. She pointed to his chair and he rapidly made his way over there, making sure no one tripped him again.

Class flew by. Unfortunately, break didn't.

He was closing his locker when he noticed Dean, talking to his friends. He smiled and lifted his hand to wave at him. He was certain Dean had seen him, but he turned his head and burst out laughing, patting the pink-haired on her shoulder. They walked away and Sam sighed.

On his way to the bathroom, someone else slammed his shoulder against his. Luckily, this time he wasn't carrying any books that could fall. He cursed at the force of it and stumbled backwards, rubbing his shoulder. What _was_ it with these people? Couldn't they just leave him alone?

During history, he overheard a boy and a girl talking about the murders.

"Yes," the girl said, "Stefanie's older sister. She was so pretty and they ruined her face."

"You don't seriously think it's worse that they ruined her face than that she's killed, do you?" the boy whispered back.

"No, no!" she placed her manicured hand over his arm, "I think it's horrible that she's killed. Poor Stefanie."

"Yeah," the boy didn't seem to mind the girl's hand, "How's she holding up?"

"She's a wreck, obviously," the other manicured hand brushed through her long black hair, "Did you know Chrissy was going to be made Team Captain? It's so sad, she had her whole life in front of her. Who _does_ something like that? How can you be so cruel as to just go and kill someone?"

"I heard they let that other girl's boyfriend go," the boy said, "Obviously he couldn't have done it while they had him in custody and I-"

"Francine! Luke!" Miss Heck yelled, "I've had it up to _here_ with your flirting. Take your stuff, you can go to the principal."

"Shit," Francine mumbled, "Mom's gonna kill me."

During lunch, Sam's stress levels shot up when he entered the cafeteria. He grabbed his food as fast as he could and left the room again. He felt awful in there, as if everyone was staring at him, waiting for the perfect moment to make a fool out of him. His hands were shaking when he walked through the doors and left the noisy student's restaurant behind him.

Everywhere he looked, he saw hostile glares staring back. He didn't dare sit down anywhere and swallowed thickly when he saw Gary and his friends turn around the corner.

The shaking of his hands got worse and he could actually see the water in his glass shifting. But Sam was lucky, they hadn't seen him yet.

He knew he was being a total coward, but he almost _ran_ to the bathrooms, hiding himself in one of the stalls. He locked the door and balanced his tray on his hip and against the door to close the lid. He then sat down on it and drew his feet up so they wouldn't show. He carefully placed his tray on his knees and stared at the food.

God, he was such a coward.

If Dean and dad saw him like this, they would be so embarrassed of him. He blushed at the thought of having dean knowing he was eating in a freaking bathroom stall to get away from the other kids. Dean wouldn't have let them tear him down. Dean would have held his head up at all times. Who cared if they didn't like him? That was their problem, not Dean's.

But Sam didn't work like that. Sam wanted harmony and smiles and god damn _unicorns_.

Sam wanted to be invisible.

He shook his head and picked at the goulash on his plate. He wasn't really hungry and the thought of having to put _that_ in his mouth made him a bit uneasy. He wrinkled his nose and decided to just go for his apple. He liked apples. They made him happy.

He knew it was a bit insane, but that was okay. Maybe _he_ was a bit insane.

The rest of the school day, Sam tried his best to escape in his own head and to ignore the real world. He tried to think of things that could have killed Tatiana and Chrissy and tried to imagine what it would have been like for them. He wondered if they'd actually been strangled to death or not.

Two more people slammed into him in the corridors and he wondered if they'd arranged this behind his back. From now on, let's make this the official _Slam-into-Sam-day_. It sucked out loud. Especially when that jock tackled him and yelled: "Aaaand Whine-Chester goes doooown… OOOOH!" People had applauded and screamed and laughed and _told him to do it again_. Sam had sat on the floor, stunned, staring at the cheering people. They really did remind him of a zoo.

He got up slowly and winced at his bruised back. His head had slammed against the floor and he hissed when he touched the quickly swelling bump. He closed his eyes for a second and told himself to man up.

What would Dean do?

Dean would have jumped the jock and ripped his throat out, but Sam wasn't nearly as big and strong as his big brother. If he'd jump the bastard, he'd just end up getting hurt worse. No, starting a fight was not an option. Besides, his dad would kill him if he started a fight. And after he'd killed him, he'd get the lay-low-lecture again. Buh.

So he got up and he tried to ignore all the staring eyes. He refused to walk with his head hung low, so he stuck his nose in the air and wished he was outside the building already, so he could disappear into the safety of the Impala. Then Dean would drive away and he could go home. Or well, _home_… it wasn't much of a home, really.

He stumbled when someone threw an empty can of coke at him and it hit him in the face. But he wouldn't get mad. He wouldn't blow up and scream at them to _LEAVE HIM THE HELL ALONE!_ No, he would not lose his temper, even though he really, _really_ wanted to punch someone in the face, and keep punching until all that was left of it would be a bloody pulp. Then, he'd grab them by the back of their hair and slam their faces against the lockers. Again and again and again.

But he wasn't going to do that, because Sam, unlike the others here, was _civilized_. The others were just animals in the zoo.

"Freak!"

Animals in the zoo that yelled stinging words at him and made him want to crawl in his bed and cry.

He felt so relieved when he could close the door behind him and run to the Impala. Dean was already waiting, talking with his friends. Oh, the irony. Dean just had to find friends at the one school where everyone hated Sam. What happened to Dean's I-don't-need-friends-speech?

Of course Sam knew Dean needed friends just as much as everyone else, but it hurt to see that his brother was able to replace him so quickly. Was that what Dean felt like every time Sam made a new friend? Of course Dean didn't need Sam to stand up for him. Dean didn't need anyone but himself to take care of himself.

Sam missed the moments when he'd been younger and came back from elementary school to have Dean waiting at the motel, eager to play with him or watch TV with him or basically do anything, as long as it included Sam. Now, when Sam walked up to his brother and his friends, Dean didn't even look at him. He just continued talking to his friends.

When his brother burst out laughing at something the Hispanic guy said – what was his name again? Pablo? – it literally hurt Sam. It felt like someone stabbed him through the heart. He just wanted to go home.

"Dean…?" he asked silently, not wanting to interrupt the happy moments of his brother. Of course Sam granted Dean his friends. It even made him slightly happy to see that Dean was actually enjoying the presence of these people. Dean deserved friends. But Sam really didn't want to be here anymore, and he selfishly wanted his brother.

Dean sighed and shot him an annoyed look.

"Get in the car, shrimp," he said. Sam did as he was told and watched Dean and his friends through the window. He couldn't make out what they were saying anymore, but he could see Dean was happy. He rested his head against the door and closed his eyes, wishing Dean would say goodbye so they could go to the motel.

It felt like ages before Dean finally did so and Sam was immensely relieved when he heard Dean's door open and the sound of his brother throwing himself in the driver's seat. Dean started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. They were silent on their way home, neither of them speaking. Dean cranked up the music and every now and then, sang along a couple of lines. That actually made Sam smile. He felt like that was the first time he'd smiled since they'd arrived at Jerusalem.

Stupid town, with its stupid Bible reference.

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><p><strong>Personally, I like this chapter a lot more than the last. I hope you do too :)<br>**

**Yay for _The Airborne Toxic Event_ :D I really love them, they're so awesome ^^ I believe they're coming to my country in October, but none of my friends listen to them :( and my dad won't let me go on my own :( that sucks. **

**Oh, have I mentioned that Jerusalem (the one in my story) is a completely made-up town? Since I've never even been to the States, I figured I shouldn't work with real towns ^^ I tried that in Three is a Crowd, but it annoyed me to no end that I didn't know shit about the town I was writing about ^^ so now: a made-up town.**

**Wow, a Sam-centered chapter. I am more of a Dean-girl really, so don't worry, Dean will get his own chapter soon enough ;)**

** - Lune x**


	7. Ghost of You

**Chapter 7: Ghost of You**

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><p><em>At the end of the world<br>Or the last thing I see  
>You are never coming home,<br>never coming home_

_And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me  
>For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me<br>If I fall, if I fall down_

_**My Chemical Romance – Ghost of You**_

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><p>"Sam, stop playing with your food," John snapped. They were currently in a diner, eating their dinner. The plans for tonight were easy: break into the school and scan that damn art class for EMF. Hopefully, nothing would go wrong and they'd be able to be back at their motelroom before midnight. Then, they'd have to find the remains of whoever was killing those poor girls and salt and burn them.<p>

Sam looked up from his pasta. He hadn't thought his father had noticed his pushing around of his food. He wasn't that hungry, even though he'd barely eaten at noon. It was like there were big knots in his stomach, preventing him from eating. His stomach and throat just closed at the thought of having to put that forkful of – delicious smelling – pasta in his mouth.

"Sorry dad," he sighed and to prove his father that there was nothing wrong, he took a big bite. Sure, it tasted pretty good, but he felt like he couldn't swallow. He just kept chewing and chewing in an attempt to get his food so small that it would glide down his throat like water. Come to think of it, maybe he should have a sip of water to wash away the food.

He reached for his glass and brought it to his lips. Nope, this wasn't working either.

He put back the glass and grabbed his chair, painfully swallowing everything that was in his mouth. He shuddered and eyed the rest of his plate. This was going to be a long evening.

Luckily, his father's attention was drawn back to Dean, who was talking loudly around mouthfuls of food. Sam hadn't really been listening, but he thought it was about Dean's new friends. Sam knew it wasn't fair to be jealous, but he couldn't help but feel like he'd been replaced somehow. Dean didn't need him anymore now that he had friends to hang with, and the feeling of not being needed anymore was pretty scary.

He glanced at Dean. Was he really not needed anymore? It was kind of looking like it.

Sam was halfway down his pasta when Dean finally decided he was full. The diner had one of those all-you-can-eat-buffets, and Dean had gone back three times. Every time he came back, his dish was loaded overly full with all kinds of meat and as little vegetables as possible. Dad's plates looked exactly the same: loads of unhealthy, greasy meat and barely any vegetables, although at least more than Dean.

Sam pushed his plate away and when his dad looked funnily he pretended not to notice.

"I'm full too," he said with a smile.

"You sure?" John asked, "'cause if you're hungry tonight, I'm not running to one of those night shops again. You'll just have to wait until breakfast then."

"I'm sure daddy," he gave his father his most innocent expression, even though he actually felt like walking away and hiding in the Impala like a small child, "I had a lot of lunch."

Sure, he didn't like lying, but he was trained by the best. If his father suspected something was amiss, he didn't say anything. He just nodded and got up, leaving a small tip on the table. Sam noticed Dean wink at the young brunette that was waiting another table. She blushed slightly and batted her eyes with a small smile. Then she looked back up to see if her actions had the desired result. Dean grinned approvingly before he went through the door, looking back one last time.

"What time is it?" Sam asked as he slammed the door of the car shut.

"Nearly 10," Dean answered, "Both girls were killed around 10, maybe we'll see some action."

"You want another girl to die, Dean?" John asked sternly. Sam noticed a tad of amusement in his voice as well.

"No!" Dean blushed, "That wasn't what I meant. No, I just… no. I didn't mean it like that..."

_Awkward,_ a little voice that sounded suspiciously much like Dean mumbled in Sam's head. He almost grinned and looked out of the window. He was dead if Dean caught him laughing at his embarrassment. Last time Sam had made the mistake of openly laughing at his brother's misfortune, Dean had locked him up in the bathroom for an hour. After Dean had used it to do very stinky business, mind you. Sam felt disgusted all over again by just thinking about that awful hour in the small and smelly thing. And no matter how hard he screamed, Dean had left him there for the full hour, just like he'd promised.

All he'd done was laugh when some pretty girl had blown Dean off with a very sharp remark about the size of her heels being bigger than Dean's dick. It was _her_ that had said it in front of her friends, not Sam. All he'd done was laugh. But it wasn't the girl who'd gotten punished. It had been Sam. Sure, he'd understood Dean's humiliation, but it was no fair locking him up for that. What was he supposed to do anyway when she'd said that? Call her a bitch and tell her that she was being unnecessarily mean? He'd only have humiliated Dean even more. Maybe Dean would have locked him up for 2 full hours if he'd done that. Thank you very much.

A dreadful feeling settled in his stomach when he saw the school building. He wanted to tell his father to turn around and just let someone else handle the hunt, but he knew he couldn't do that. He took a deep breath and told himself to be a man, not a pussy. It was just a building. He'd hunted before.

Somehow, he didn't think it was the hunt that was bothering him so much. The school building reminded him of actually going to school and the people that went there as well. He had the vague feeling that they were waiting for him, ready to make his night as miserable as his days.

But that wasn't so. As he'd said, it was night. No sane person – or no sane student at least – would come to school after hours. The parking lot was empty but their own car and when Sam slammed his door shut behind him, it echoed through the dark.

"Ssh!" Dean and John whispered in unison and Sam ducked away in his collar.

"Sorry," he mumbled. His father opened the trunk and took out their EMF meter and three shotguns filled with rock salt. The small handgun with actual – and very lethal – bullets in it disappeared in his father's waistband. He quietly closed the trunk and Sam was vaguely surprised at how silent his father could be, even though he'd seen it before. It just was a big contrast to his own noisiness.

One of the shotguns was pressed into his hands and he held on to it stiffly. His eyes darted from the brick building over the trees of the small forest behind the pond to the empty sports fields. He felt out of place. Not only were you not supposed to be at school after it closes, he just didn't fit in here. Then again, where did he fit in? He was always the freak.

"Come on," John said in a low voice. His sons followed him to the front door and Dean quickly picked the lock, grinning when he heard the click that indicated that the door was no longer locked. Sam's heart was beating loudly when he went through the doors and into the silent and dark hall. Adrenaline ran through his body.

Walking through the empty corridors with the only light coming from his dad's flashlight was something he should be used to by now. Yet, it still felt a bit weird. Schools just aren't supposed to be deserted and dark.

They climbed the stairs in silence, shotguns at the ready. Sam noticed the pretty white coat the skinny girl from his Latin class – Mia, he'd learned today – had been wearing that morning, hanging in the art wing. Apparently she'd forgotten it and he felt the sudden urge to rip the coat in little pieces or at least set fire to it. But then he'd have to explain his behavior to his father, and he just wasn't ready for that.

"This should be the one," Dean mumbled, pointing at the door with yellow police tape. He pushed the tape away from the handle a little and worked on opening this lock as well. Within half a minute, Sam heard the click and the door slid open. John pushed his oldest aside and tested how far they could open the door without ripping the police tape. Apparently, that was pretty far since the policemen hadn't bothered to actually attach the tape to the door, just the doorframe. John pushed it aside and crawled inside. Sam and Dean followed quickly.

It smelled like paint and blood in the room. Against the walls, there were several paintings and sketches. The desks had been pushed aside either by the policemen to do their job, or by the killer because it needed its space. There were white lines on the floor, indicating the two places were the girls had been found.

"It's probably a spirit with a grudge against cheerleaders," John said, "So we should be safe."

"I'm not so sure Sammy's safe then," Dean grinned. Sam glared at him.

"Shut up, Dean," he mumbled.

"Aw," Dean laughed, "Is it your time of the month, Samantha?"

"Shut _up_!" Sam all but yelled and he shoved his brother. His voice echoed through the big room and Dean looked taken aback. That sure wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. He always teased his little brother, that was just the way it was. Why be a bitch about it now?

"Don't be a loser, Sammich," Dean rolled his eyes to cover his surprise at Sam's reaction. Sam opened his mouth to retort, but John quickly interrupted.

"Boys," he said loudly, "We're working here, not on a school trip. So shut up and work, the both of you."

"Yes sir," his sons said in unison, looking slightly ashamed at their behavior. John nodded.

"Dean, scan the room for EMF," he ordered, "Sammy, look for anything that can help us."

"Yes sir," they said again. Dean laid his shotgun on one of the empty desks, trusting his father and brother to protect him if necessary. He pulled out the EMF meter and switched it on. It flickered once and zoomed softly. But it didn't spike. He slowly made his way through the room, scanning the walls and desks and paintings. He paused when he saw Paco's name on a drawing. It was a clown, but not the kindergarten kind of clown. The clown looked sad and shyly over his shoulder, its back towards the viewer. It had a balloon in its hand, but the helium was exhausted which resulted in the balloon lying flatly on the ground. It was actually a really pretty drawing, though really sad as well.

He scanned the drawing just to be sure, but no EMF was found on it.

Sam was on his knees on the floor looking for blood or ectoplasm or hexbags or really anything that could point in the direction of the killer being supernatural, when he heard Dean call him.

"Sam," Dean called. He looked up to see Dean showing him some kind of drawing. He squinted his eyes to see what was on it, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized it was a clown. He rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha, Dean," he said in an annoyed voice, "Not funny."

Dean laughed and shook his head in amusement. It was just too easy to get to Sammy. He caught his father's eyes and noticed with relief that he was looking at least a little amused as well. He grinned at him, and John smiled back, then waved his hand to indicate that Dean should work on.

"I don't find anything," Sam sighed after a while, when he'd searched his half of the room. His dad was almost finished as well. Dean walked over to the places where the bodies had been found.

His EMF meter beeped loudly, startling him.

"Dad," he called, unnecessarily. John was there in three strides, watching over his son's shoulder as Dean scanned the area again. Strangely, the EMF only spiked on one of the two body-places. There were traces of it on the between the lines of the other body as well, but only one of them really spiked.

"Good job, Dean," John patted his oldest on the shoulder, "At least now we're certain that we're not dealing with some psycho kid with a chemistry set."

* * *

><p><strong>Ah, the new school year started today ^^ which means my younger brother and sister had to go back to school today and the house is miiiine ^^ well, apart from my mom and my dog and the man who's painting my bedroom that is ;) only some 25 days left, and my year starts as well... ah, how awesome university is sometimes... It's so much harder, but so much more fun as well ^^<br>**

**and finally, after 2 months of shitty weather during the summerbreak, we now have sun! On the first day of school ^^ oh, all those poor kids who can not lie in the garden right now ;) Nah, I'm just being mean ;)**

** - Lune x**


	8. Nightswimming

**Especially for my regular reviewers: _The Banana Nut Muffin, December-Apples, Hummingfox, Judyann_ and _Nikole Stella_: a chapter that is almost twice as long as normal chapters! You five are the most amazing reviewers an author could wish for :) Everytime my inbox tells me you left me a review, I'm excited and curious to see what you thought of the chapter. You guys make my day.**

** The other readers and reviewers make my day as well, of course ^^ **

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Nightswimming<strong>

_Nightswimming  
>Deserves a quiet night<br>I'm not sure all these people understand_

_You I thought I knew you  
>You I cannot judge<br>You I thought you knew me_

_**R.E.M. - Nightswimming**_

That night, Sam had a nightmare.

He was running through the school building. The only sounds he heard were his rapid breathing and the tap-tap-tap of his sneakers against the tiles. He knew someone was following him, but whenever he looked over his shoulder, there was no one to be seen.

He was not himself though. He had long black hair that fell into his eyes and when he looked down, he saw small breasts, a tanned skin and a cheerleader uniform. He screamed when the lockers to his left opened with a loud bang and all kinds of stuff flew towards him. He got hit in the head by a can of coke and he stumbled. His scream had sounded girly and high and he somehow realized that he was not himself, but a terrified teenage girl. But that didn't occur to him as strange.

He tripped when he turned around a corner and slammed against a door. He jostled the handle and screamed for help. An inhuman laugh sounded behind him and relief flooded through him when the door opened. It was dark in the room, but he could vaguely see stairs. Slipping and crying he climbed them.

"_Please!_" he screamed in his new-found girly voice, "_Someone __**help**__ me!_"

His sobbing made it hard for him to breathe and he could barely see through the tears that ran from his eyes. Another door opened and he ran through it, out of the stairwell and into another sparsely lit corridor. There was light behind one of the doors though and he fell against it, pounding against the wood and screaming his lungs out. When the door finally opened, no one was in the room and with a rising feeling of dread, he realized that he was in the art class.

He tripped over a desk and fell on the floor, scrambling away from the still open the door. He screamed again when a dark figure appeared in it. It laughed loudly as it entered the class and saw the critical situation Sam was in.

"_No! No!_ _Oh my God… please! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"_

He was crying so hard he was barely able to breathe.

"_Please… please…"_

It hovered over him, placing ice cold hands on his throat and squeezing. Sam made a choking sound, realizing he really was going to die.

"_No…" _he rasped, "_MOMMY!"_

He shot up from his bed with a gasp and a strangled cry. His loud pants filled his ears and for a moment he thought he was still stuck in his nightmare. It took him a couple of seconds to make out the forms of the furniture and the soft snores of his brother in the other bed.

He brought his shaking hands to his face and pressed them against his eyes, willing his breath to even out. He felt sick and dizzy and cold and he was slick with sweat. Shakily, he pushed himself up from his bed. His knees felt like rubber when he slowly made his way to the bathroom. His head burst with pain when he switched on the light and he almost moaned as he shielded his eyes with his hand until his eyes were adjusted and the pain had subdued again. He quietly closed the door behind him and stared at his ghostly form in the bathroom mirror. He was pale and sweaty and still trembling.

He splashed some water in his face and held his wrists under the tap to let the cold water run over them. He'd once read that that helped you calm down. He threw some more water on his face when he still looked like hell and he took a few sips of it. Hanging upside down with his mouth under the stream made him feel sicker though and he quickly scrambled upright again when he feared he would throw up in the sink.

"Shit," he mumbled. He slowly sat down on the closed toilet lid and stared at the ugly pink wall for a few minutes. When he finally felt like he had himself under control again he got up again and shot another glance at himself in the mirror. He looked slightly better, but he was still feeling a bit sick. The trembling of his hands had lessened when he switched off the light again and stumbled back to his bed. He lowered himself in it with a sigh and pulled his covers up to his chin. He thought about when he was younger and he'd crawl into Dean's bed when he had a nightmare. He hadn't done that since he'd turned 10. He kind of wished he could still do it. Lying close to Dean would make him feel calmer in a second. All Dean would have to do was breathe and be warm.

Sam rolled on his side and stared at Dean's sleeping form until he finally fell back asleep.

When he woke up again, it was to the voices of his brother and father. At first, he couldn't make out the words, as if they weren't speaking English. He listened to the wordless tones and smiled at the deep rumble of a Dean with morning moodiness speaking around a mouthful of… was that eggs he smelled?

When he moved upright, he felt sick again. He didn't feel like he was going to puke all over his bed kind of sick. It was more like a painful nagging, like the beginning of carsickness. Or like when you'd lost a lot of blood and all you wanted to do was lie down.

"Good morning, Sammy," John said, "Eggs?"

"No thanks," he mumbled, pressing his hand against his upset stomach.

"Hi," Dean grumbled. Oh yeah, his brother was definitely tired. And grumpy.

"Hey," Sam lowered himself in the chair and eyed the food on the table suspiciously. He really wasn't hungry.

"Like I was saying," John continued the conversation he'd been having with Dean, "The EMF scan was weird. Why would the place where Tatiana's body was found spike with EMF, while there's barely any where Chrissy's body was found. It just doesn't make sense. This isn't necessarily a revengeful spirit. It could be all kinds of spirit-y evil. It could be a poltergeist."

"Or that kid who was pushed down those stairs," Dean hissed when he burned his tongue on his coffee.

"You mean that Jeremy kid?" John frowned, "Nothing points to him being _pushed_ down those stairs, Dean. All files say he fell. It may just have been a sad accident."

"Or not," Dean looked at Sam, "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not really hungry," Sam waved the question away and reached for the milk. His dad didn't see him as a man yet, so he still drank milk instead of coffee. Not that he minded, he didn't really like the taste of coffee.

"Sam," John sounded stern, "Eat."

"Why?" he protested, "I'm not hungry."

"So now what?" John raised his voice, "You're anorexic? You're one of those prissy girls who don't eat and then puke?"

"No!" he yelled, "I'm just not hungry."

"You weren't hungry last night either," John growled, "We're not doing this again Sam. You _will_ eat."

"Oh _please_!" Sam said angrily, all this arguing was making him feel worse, "'_We're not doing this again'_?! Doing _what_ dad?"

"Your '_I'm not eating' act_!" John slammed his fist down on the table, "It's getting really old, really fast Sam. Last time…"

"Last time was a mistake!" Sam screamed, interrupting his father, "Stop throwing it in my face."

Okay, so a few years ago he'd been so angry at his dad for taking him away – again – that he'd refused to eat for three full days, until Dean and John had been so desperate that they'd force-fed him, much against his liking. He'd taken his revenge by making himself so hysterical he'd vomited over his father's favorite shirt. Dean had been on the verge of crying and John had screamed and cursed and given him hour-long lectures. He'd even slapped him. And he'd still refused to eat.

Then, he passed out at school and he had to be taken to the hospital. It was then that he realized that it had been a big mistake. When he woke up to the smell of disinfectant and ether he saw how badly he'd scared his brother and father really. They had both looked exhausted and 10 years older. Sam had been so ashamed. He still was when he thought back to that episode.

"I'll stop throwing it in your face when you start _fucking_ eating," John yelled back. He threw some eggs on Sam's plate and a slice of bread and shoved it in front of his youngest. Sam felt tears prickle in his eyes. It was unfair. He'd made _a mistake_. _Once_.

"Fine," he snapped. When took a bit of the bread he felt sickness explode in his stomach. He was certain he was going to barf all over the table, but he forced himself to keep it down. Deep inside he knew his father was just worried, but it was still unfair. When Dean didn't feel like eating, no one made a big deal out of it. But when he was feeling off, everyone dramatized it.

He must have turned a bit green, 'cause Dean inauspiciously leaned away from him a bit, making sure that if Sam was going to be sick, it wouldn't be on him. Sam glared at him, but Dean just shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.

He ate his toast and half of his eggs with a sour face and a sick feeling. When he was done, he locked himself into the bathroom and stood in front of the open toilet bowl. He tried to take deep breaths and force the nausea to go away again. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, placing his hand against the wall for support and his other over his stomach. When he thought about having to leave for school in less than half an hour all of his muscles tensed and he felt ten times sicker. He gagged once and bent deeper.

_Man up, Sam!_

He pushed himself away from the wall and walked to the sink. For the second time in only a few hours notice he splashed water on his face and held his wrists under the tap. He took a very quick cold shower and threw on some clothes. Looking in the mirror, he noticed that he still looked pale. He wished the kids would just leave him alone today when he obviously wasn't feeling well.

It were those bullies that were making him sick in the first place.

- SPN -

It was hours later when Dean drove onto the parking lot of their school again. Many, many hours in fact. It was around 8 PM and he had a date. Well, it wasn't really a date actually. The Outcasts were going out and he'd been invited to come along. His father had agreed if he promised to be home before midnight. He'd reluctantly agreed, but being home before midnight was better than not being allowed to go out at all.

An expensive looking pink car arrived shortly after him and sloppily parked a few spots away. Alexis was in an awfully good mood when she came out and she kissed him on both cheeks when she saw him, hugging him twice.

"Dean-o!" she yelled in his ear, "Seen the rest yet?" She took a swig of the bottle of beer in her hand and Dean realized where the happiness came from.

It was as if she'd said a spell, because he spotted Amy, Paco and Daniel while she was still asking about them. They came around the school building. Amy waved at them and Paco shouted something that he didn't understand. It sounded like an excited greeting.

"Danny!" Alexis yelled and she threw her hands in the air, clumsily running towards her friends. Dean noticed Amy and Paco were carrying a box of beer and he grinned.

"Dean," Daniel greeted with a smile. Dean nodded with a smile of his own and looked up at the sky. It wasn't such a cold night actually.

"C'mon," Paco laughed. It didn't happen very often that Paco laughed, but when he did, you couldn't help but join him. He just had a very catching laugh. Joking loudly, they trotted to the pond. It really was their hang spot. Every time they skipped classes, Dean found himself at the pond with his new friends. During the breaks, he found himself there as well.

Alexis fell into a heap in the grass and promptly burst out laughing.

"You're such a drunk, Lexi," Daniel grinned.

"I know," she giggled and stuck her legs in the air in some sort of weird drunk-ass yoga move, "What're you gonna do 'bout it?"

Daniel fell next to her and reached for her bottle, "I can take your booze away…"

"Noooo…" she laughed and rolled away from her friend, "Aaaames…"

Amy threw herself in the struggle for the bottle as Dean and Paco sat down. Paco grabbed a beer and offered Dean one as well. Contently, Dean leaned back against the tree, taking a long swig from his drink. He vaguely wished he'd thought about making friends earlier in his life. It was a long time ago since he'd had a friend other than Sam.

"I'll keep it safe from Dan, Lexi," Amy offered when Daniel had almost reached the bottle and Alexis trusted the beer in her friend's hand. Amy laughed when she backed away from the struggling teenagers and brought the drink to her lips.

"Aaaaames!" Alexis whined.

"What?" Amy winked and flopped down next to Dean, "I said I'd keep it safe from Dan, not that I wouldn't drink it myself."

Alexis pouted and finally gave in, causing Daniel to sloppily fall over her. He didn't move away though, but Alexis didn't seem to mind. She loudly started complaining about one of her siblings, who'd apparently _eaten_ her lipstick.

"Want some?" Amy offered Dean her – well Alexis's actually – bottle. Dean smiled and held up his own to show her that he was good.

"What happened to your eye?" he suddenly noticed the fresh-looking bloody scratch that definitely hadn't been there during school today.

"What?" she asked, sounding confused, before she reached for her eyebrow, "Oh… I walked into a door. I'm so clumsy sometimes!"

Paco shot her an understanding look and she shrugged, smiling. She lay down and stretched, making her toes crack in her shoes. She giggled.

"I want to be a dancer," she suddenly said.

"You want to be everything but what you are," Paco remarked. She stuck out her tongue and took another gulp. She coughed when she choked on it and rolled on her stomach.

"You okay?" Dean asked. She nodded and rolled back on her back.

"'s beautiful," she mumbled. Dean could see the reflection of the moon in her eyes and thought the exact same thing. _Beautiful_.

They lay in the grass for a long while, just talking and drinking and smoking – well, except for Dean, who didn't smoke. The later it got, the louder they got. Alexis hadn't stopped laughing and babbling since she'd arrived and Amy was well on her way to copy her friend's actions. Paco had taken off his shoes and was giving Dean a long lecture on poverty and war and why it was totally okay to smoke pot every now and then. After two beers, Dean had checked out on the conversation and had set on staring at Amy, whom was currently struggling to take off her shoes. Daniel was mesmerized by Alexis's hair.

"Let's swim," Amy suddenly suggested when she'd finally gotten rid of her shoes.

"In the pond?" Paco asked. She nodded fervently and fell on her side when that made her dizzy. She giggled.

"Clumsy," she slurred. She frowned for a moment and brought her hands to her head, pressing.

"Amy drunk," Alexis commented. Amy gave her a slightly ashamed grin. Daniel laughed.

"Let's swim, Drunky," Paco had gotten to his feet and pulled his lightweight friend to her feet as well, "Dean?"

Dean nodded. He was having so much fun, he didn't care if they would swim or take a walk or just sit there and enjoy each other's company. These people made him feel like he'd come home. They accepted him and they didn't ask any questions. They were _awesome._

He stumbled a bit when he got up and Amy giggled, bumping his arm in a friendly gesture.

She pulled her top over her head and tossed her skirt aside. He could see the lines of the tattoos on her body. It were no tigers or butterflies or faces, but just lines and words. It was sophisticated, yet simple and elegant… and _god_, he was _so_ drunk if he used words like '_sophisticated'_. Dad was going to _kill_ him. He chuckled under his breath.

He followed Amy and Paco's example and climbed out of his clothes. Amy threw her bra at Alexis's head and ran to the pond. The water splashed around her body and she squealed. Dean shivered when he felt how cold the water really was as he ran into it as well. The cold sobered him up a little. Paco dove and reemerged next to Amy, spitting water at her.

"Paco!" she laughed and pushed his head under the surface for a few seconds before letting go of him again. Dean swam to his friends. He'd expected Paco to be at least a little mad at Amy for trying to drown him, but he just laughed, and pushed her. She stumbled and fell, submerging for a moment as well. She spluttered when her head appeared above the water and her hair stuck to her face.

She swam to Dean and threw her arms around his neck, clinging to his back. Dean's goosebumps got worse when he felt the pressure of her breasts against his back. Her skin against his felt cold and hard yet so soft, and he really wanted her right there, right then.

"Be my fishy," she whispered loudly in his ear. Dean was reminded of when he was a kid and they'd stayed at that place with the pool. His mom had still been alive and she'd sat in the sun with little Sammy in her arms. His father and he had played in the pool for hours. His father would swim and he would cling to his neck, screaming at him to go faster. Dad had been his dolphin.

Dean dove and he could feel her trailing behind him. He could feel her shaking with laughter and he almost stopped swimming, giving in to the amazing sensations he was feeling. But he didn't. He swam for a couple of meters and when he reemerged, she let go of him.

"Fishy," she smiled and pressed her nose against his ear. She swam back to the shore. Paco had already gone back. Dean wanted to follow, but he feared they would see his excitement. He took a deep breath and dove again to cool down his flushed cheeks.

_Think about awkward things. Think about the case, Dean. Think about poor Chrissy._

Thinking about Chrissy lessened his excitement in the blink of an eye. The thought of what they'd done to her face… _Gah_, he felt sick all over again if he thought about it. He'd even dreamt of it last night. He shook his head and waded to his friends. Alexis and Daniel were intertwined in their own little love game and Dean could hear the sloppy sounds of their kissing. Amy and Paco were sending them dirty looks, but they didn't say anything. They all dried themselves on a blanket Alexis had brought from her car. Dean slipped out of his wet boxers and pulled his pants over his naked ass.

"Another beer, Ames?" Paco asked. She shook her head.

"I think I'm going home," she smiled at him and pulled on her shirt inside-out, not even bothering to even think about putting on her bra again, "This was _awesome_. I'll see you on… eh… Monday? Yeah, yeah… on Monday…"

"Be safe," Paco helped her with her skirt, as she kept losing her balance. His finger traced the cut above her eye and she hissed, shying away from him, "I'll drop you off, Amy."

Dean looked at his watch and decided he should get going as well. He didn't want to get in any trouble with his dad and his stomach started to feel a little weird. Maybe he shouldn't have had that last beer. His thoughts were less clouded than earlier though.

He waved goodbye at Paco and Amy, who headed back in the direction of the school building. Alexis and Daniel didn't notice them leaving and didn't pay attention to Dean either. He stumbled a little when he made his way back to the Impala and he seriously considered leaving the Impala there until tomorrow and walking back. But dad would kill him if he left the Impala behind. If he'd drive really slowly, he'd be fine. At this hour of the night, there wouldn't be much people on the road anyway.

He took a deep breath and started the car. The movements of his car made him feel slightly sick and he opened the window, hoping that the wind would blow his troubles away. Besides, he felt like he couldn't get enough air. That was a ridiculous thought, he knew that, but still. He just hoped he wouldn't puke on the steering wheel. He definitely shouldn't have had that last beer. Man, how many did he have anyway? He'd lost count somewhere after 6.

But he'd had fun. He'd had more fun than he'd had in a long time. It was even more fun than that Black Jack spirit in Vegas and that had been one hell of a cool case.

He rested his head against the door to his motel room while he fumbled with the keys. He cursed softly when they slipped from his trembling fingers and fell to the floor. He was certain their loud jingling sound they made when they hit the ground woke up the entire block. He looked around quickly, but no lights flipped on and no one came out of their door screaming at him to _keep it down_, _**puh-lease**_. _We have children sleeping here._

He sighed in relief when he finally opened the door. All he wanted to do now, was lie in his bed and sleep, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't spend much of the rest of the night in his bed. His stomach made an awkward gurgling sound and he patted it gently.

"Hush," he mumbled.

He didn't even bother undressing before he fell on top of his covers and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>So, some sick!Sam, drunk!Dean and sick!Dean ^^ next chapter: hungover!Dean ^^ because hangovers are a bitch, uggh! (especially if your parents keep rubbing it in your face and keep telling everyone they meet how you - accidently - got drunk and then got really sick... it wasn't my fault the waiters kept giving me wine!)<strong>

**- Lune x**


	9. Numb

**Chapter 9: Numb**

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><p><em>I don't know where I am<br>I don't know what I've done  
>I just go over it again and again and again<br>I can't sleep at night  
>I can't breathe<br>But If I drink tonight I'll get you off my mind_

_And the ever present pit I feel_  
><em>I'm turning on some spinning wheel<em>  
><em>Of faces and the scenes I see<em>  
><em>And none of it seems real to me<em>  
><em>Just the bleary haze of the morning still to come<em>

_I just want to be numb_

_**The Airborne Toxic Event - Numb**_

* * *

><p>The moment Dean's head hit his pillow, his trembling increased to a solid shaking. Tremors ran up and down his body and he was damn <em>cold<em>. And at the same time, he felt too hot. Awesome.

He kicked off his boots and pulled his blanket over him, trying to find a comfortable position. When he moved though, he felt his nausea increase with a tenfold. He held his breath for a couple of seconds and lay as still as he could, willing his stomach to stop rebelling. He lay like that for a couple of minutes, listening to Sam's breathing and trying to copy it.

God, he was so hot.

He pushed the blankets off him again. If he was so hot, then why wouldn't his teeth stop chattering and the rest of him stop shaking? Man, he definitely shouldn't have had that last beer. He probably shouldn't have had those last three or four… he was so stupid! But he'd had so much fun. Thinking about his night made him smile.

Cold, cold, cold!

His hands blindly searched for his covers, pulling them over him again. He wiggled his toes and took another shaky breath. He hadn't moved yet, hoping for the nausea and the trembling to pass. He gradually grew hotter again and the trembling indeed eased. With that, his nausea became slightly more bearable as well. He almost felt comfortable, so he rolled on his side to seek even more comfortableness.

Bad idea! Oh _God_… _such_ a bad idea.

He could feel bile rising in his throat and he swallowed convulsively. He concentrated very hard on keeping his stomach down, until he realized that he was not going to make it. He hastily pushed his covers off him again and scrambled out of his bed. He half ran to the bathroom with one hand pressed against his stomach and the other clamped over his mouth. He fell in front of the toilet and retched. All he could think while he threw up his dinner and possibly even his lunch and breakfast was _I am never – ever – drinking again. Ever._

He groaned as silently as he could, not wanting to wake up his brother. God, he felt _awful_. The shaking had gotten worse again and he clamped his rattling teeth together, not wanting to be sick anymore. That didn't work, of course. He tried not to make any noise as he retched and vomited over and over again. He really didn't want Sam to hear him. Sam would tell his father and then he'd have a problem.

Not that he didn't have a problem already.

When he thought he was about ready, he shakily pushed himself up and flushed. When he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he saw what a mess he was. He looked actually _green_. Green was not good. He rinsed his mouth and considered taking a few sips of water, but the thought of doing so almost sent him back to his knees.

"_Stop_ shaking," he mumbled to himself, making fists, "Wuss. Can't even keep _beer_ down. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_… _Loser_… pathetic…"

He stumbled back to his bed. Maybe he should get out of his clothes and dress in his sleep shirt. That would be more comfortable. He fumbled with the button of his pants, cursing under his breath. His head was throbbing and there was an uncomfortable pressure behind his nose and eyes. It felt a bit like a sinusitis.

He had to sit down when he'd finally wiggled out of his pants. He pulled his shirt over his head and reached under his pillow for his sleep shirt. When the cold air hit his bare chest, he shivered so hard he was afraid he'd fall off his bed. He quickly pulled on his other shirt and lay down, pulling the covers over him once more.

But lying down didn't make him feel better. In contrary. It was like he could feel the contents of his stomach slush and flow into his esophagus. He quickly scrambled up again, pressing his hand against his mouth. Sitting up felt slightly better. At least he didn't feel like his half digested food flew back up. Gravity was a bitch sometimes. He pushed his pillow higher and leaned against his headboard. He closed his eyes and shivered, but was able to fall into an uncomfortable slumber.

The fourth time he ran back to the bathroom to puke his guts out, he didn't even care about being silent anymore. He was miserable, was only able to sleep about half an hour at the time before he woke up to make another mad dash for the bathroom, the shaking was still there and his head was really starting to hurt. What was worse, was that he had nothing left to hurl. But his body didn't know that yet.

He was so busy retching loudly, coughing and spluttering and choking, that he didn't hear Sam's bed creak and didn't hear his small feet on the cold floor. He didn't even hear the door open and Sam's panicked gasp.

"Dean?" he asked. Dean groaned loudly. He really didn't feel well; he wasn't up to fixing the kid's problems as well. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Are you okay?" A soft hand landed on his shoulder and he jerked.

"Go back…" he coughed and gagged, "to bed."

He was the older brother. Even though he felt miserable and as if he was on the verge of passing out on the cold tiles, he didn't want his _younger_ brother fussing over him. It was humiliating. He could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone.

"But Dean…" Sam whispered, his little hand rubbing small circles on his back.

"GO _AWAY_!" Dean half yelled, half moaned. He almost hit his head against the toilet seat when another bout of dry heaving sent him crashing forward. Sam's hand disappeared and Dean almost felt guilty for yelling at him. But he didn't want Sam to see him like this. Sam could only see him as the strong and awesome big brother he was. Not like this mess.

He panted and gasped for air, scrunching his eyes shut. He grabbed the toilet lid above his head to keep him from falling aside. He just wanted to sleep, so he could forget about feeling sick and drinking too damn much. Why was it that when he needed it the most, the stupid Pepto-Bismol didn't work? He'd taken a double dose already, and yet it barely did anything to make him feel better. He couldn't take _another_ spoon, could he? He wondered what would happen if he overdosed on the pink stuff?

He wiped the offensive strings of saliva and bile from his chin. Then, he clumsily pushed himself up from the floor and swayed for a couple of seconds, blinking the black spots away. When he was almost back in his bed, he tripped over something that rolled away with a clattering noise. He cursed and stared at the floor to see what he'd kicked.

A bucket.

Sam had placed a bucket next to his bed so he wouldn't have to run to the bathroom anymore. Dean sighed and shook his head. His brother was such a girl sometimes. But he appreciated the gesture. A lot. Not that he would use the bucket. If he did so, he'd have to live through the knowledge that Sam would be watching him. He didn't like that thought.

He half lay down again, closing his eyes.

It felt like he'd only closed them for 2 seconds, when their door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang, which shot through Dean's head like a bullet. He could hear Sam shoot up from his bed, and could easily imagine the scared and surprised look the kid would sport. He opened his eyes a little and pushed himself up, pointing his gun towards the entrance. If only the room would stop spinning.

"Get up," his father's gruff voice said. Dean fell back and yelped in pain when his head hit the headboard. He moaned and curled in on himself, clutching his rapid growing bump. His stomach felt slightly better than a few hours ago, but now his head was killing him. And not just because he'd hit it.

"Ssh!" Sam's fervent whisper cut through his head and Dean wanted to moan again, "Dean's not well."

Dad closed the gap between the door and Dean's bed in 6 big strides. Before he knew what was going on, a big rough hand cupped his forehead, and then his cheeks.

"Open your eyes," his dad commanded. Dean did as he was told and was greeted by the disappointed look in his father's eyes.

"Get up," he repeated.

"Daddy!" Sam's voice sounded a little whiny and Dean cringed, "Dean is ill."

"Son," John huffed, "I know a hangover when I see one."

Sam gaped at Dean when realization hit him that it was Dean's own fault that he felt like shit now. Dean blushed a little and looked away from both of his family members.

"I should make you run lapses until you hurl," his dad said in that cut-through-Dean's-heart-disappointed tone. Dean wanted to say that he believed that he'd puked enough for one night. He looked away in shame and kept his mouth shut for once. He slowly climbed out of his bed, clutching the bedpost with one hand for support. Man, he felt lousy. He could use a shower too.

"Sit. Breakfast?" his dad asked, placing a bowl of oatmeal in front of Sam. It looked like it had already been eaten once, and now they were supposed to eat it again.

"God no," Dean gagged, but he sat at the table as his father had asked. At least the shaking had stopped. He leaned his elbows on the table and his face in his palms, sighing softly.

"Dean?" his father's voice sounded soft, maybe a little worried after all.

"I'm fine," Dean answered, looking up, "Like you said… just a hangover."

Dean hadn't had many hangovers in his life. His brother was too young to drink, his father didn't like the idea of his sons being alcoholics – but every now and then, he let Dean drink one or two beers – and he didn't usually drink with his friends, since, yeah… _what friends_?

Dad made his annoyed 'tsk' sound and he felt Sam staring at him. Without a word, dad placed a glass of fizzling water in front of him. Dean eyed it suspiciously – the thought of having to drink made him feel sicker – but he figured his head would stop pounding if he downed the fizzling water.

"Where's the Impala?" dad asked. Dean gave him a confused look, panic rising in his chest. Had someone stolen the Impala? Had he forgotten to lock it with his stupid drunk head?

"In the parking lot," he answered cautiously, half getting up from his seat to check on the car himself. He saw his father's shoulders stiffen and he didn't dare moving any further out of his seat. It was silent for a few seconds, while his father slowly turned around. Even Sam stopped eating. Dean felt his eyes grow big and his heart – and head – beat faster at his dad's furious look.

"Dad…?" he asked, but he was interrupted by an angry fist, slamming on the kitchen table. Both Dean and Sam jumped and Dean's chair fell to the floor with a clattering sound. Dean cringed, pressing his hand against his temple.

"You _drove_ the Impala?" John all but yelled, "While you were _wasted_? … Are you _out_ of your _mind_?"

Dean cringed some more. He wasn't afraid of his father – okay, maybe he was – but right now, the man was terrifying. And loud. Very, very loud.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. His own shrill voice cut through his head as well. This was going to be a long day.

"You better!" John hollered, "You could have _crashed_, Dean... You need to start taking some _responsibility_."

Now, _that_ wasn't fair. Dean took plenty of responsibility. He hunted, saved lives, protected his brother, had his old man's back... he even made his homework every now and then, in between ghouls and werewolves. Okay, fine he'd messed up. But his father still wasn't being fair. He was the most responsible 17-year old he knew!

"I'm sorry," he said again, grimly, "I wouldn't have crashed the car. I know how much she means to you."

John was stunned into shocked silent for a second, before painfully grabbing his son's chin, "I wasn't worried about the car, idiot."

Dean squirmed. He didn't know what to feel, but mostly he felt uncomfortable. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not knowing what to say. When his father finally let go of him, Dean felt like his head had turned into a tomato. A hurting, sun-dried tomato for that matter.

"Drink it," dad pushed the glass closer to Dean, who obeyed. The medicine tasted awful and his stomach rebelled against it. He gagged around a mouthful of water and almost choked on it, but he managed to drink it all without having to run to the bathroom. That made him feel pretty proud.

"Just so you know it," dad said and planted a thick folder on the table, "While you were partying with your friends, another girl was murdered."

"What?" Dean spluttered, "What… I… _What_?"

"That booze still running through your veins, kid?" John asked, "Another girl died."

"That's impossible," Dean shook his head, "I was there. I was at the school around 10. I didn't see anything."

"She wasn't killed around 10."

"Then when?" Dean felt confused, "I was there dad, I could see the window to the art class. I swear, nothing moved there."

"Like I said, she wasn't killed around 10," his father opened the folder, "More like, a little before 8. Where you there a little before 8, Dean?"

"I… no… no, a little after 8…" Dean slumped back in his seat, "I could have saved her… If only…"

"You probably couldn't have saved her," John pulled out a file, "But damn, we should have cracked this case already."

"Who was she?" Sam asked. He'd started eating again.

"Her name was Esmeralda García," John sighed, "She was 18 and a cheerleader. She was strangled and just like the other two."

"How bad…?" Dean didn't want to hear about the mutilations, he just wanted the day to be over and his stomach to calm down. But he had to ask. It was part of the job.

"Chrissy was worse," John shoved a picture towards his boys, "She's more like Tatiana."

A black haired girl with a nice tanned skin was lying on a big piece of paper. She wore her cheerleader uniform and sported ugly bruises on her neck, like the other girls. Dean didn't look at the grossness of her melted eyes and brains. He already knew what that looked like, and he was afraid he'd throw up over the picture and Sam if he had to study that again. After she'd died – or Dean assumed that it had happened after she'd died – her murderer had twisted her limbs, so she seemed to be in the middle of a difficult-looking ballet pose. Why would anyone play with the girl like she was a life-sized Barbie-doll?

"Look at that drawing," Sam whispered, "Look at the details…"

Dean noticed now that she was not just lying on a big piece of paper, but on a big drawing. It was a drawing of a crow, staring at the dead girl. But they weren't cheering. They were booing, telling her to go away and that she sucked. Sam had been right. There were a lot of details in the drawing. No way could the killer have drawn this right after he'd killed poor… Esmeralda?

"Let me guess," Sam mumbled, "She was a really good dancer?"

"I don't know yet," John said, "But I'm guessing yes."

"Dad…" Dean said slowly, "I think I just fixed a big part of the why-the-hell-is-the-EMF-off-mystery…"

John cocked an eyebrow, waiting for his son's brilliant theory – because, what else do you expect from a hungover brain?

"We're not dealing with a cheerleader-hating ghost."

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Dean, I feel for you boy. Because basically, I'm describing my hangover from last week ^^ well, minus the headache. Somehow, I don't get headaches. But boy, do I get sick -_-' And I don't even drink usually! I'm the geek student who drinks <em>juice<em> when she goes out... even worse, I'm the nerd who doesn't go out ^^ Anyway, enough rambling about my personal life ^^ **

**So, another girl's dead. Anyone with theories? ^^ **

**And I'm going to do something that I usually don't, but man, did I stumble upon an AMAZING writer here at ! If you ever get tired of my stories, go read her's! All I've been doing these past few days is reading all of her stories ^^ KKBELVIS guys, go check her out.**

**Anyway, I'm off to bed :)**

**- Lune x**

**ps. If you see any mistakes, point them out. Because I feel like I've messed up a lot in this chapter ^^ Somehow, the English wouldn't come ;)**

**pps. I still have a lot of reviews to answer, I know, but I don't have much time ^^ I'll try to answer them tomorrow. In the mean time: know that I love you all!  
><strong>


	10. Soldier On

**Chapter 10: Soldier On**

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><p><em>Soldier On<br>Soldier On  
>Keep your heart, close, to the ground<em>

_Don't think about it at all_  
><em>Just keep your head low<em>  
><em>Don't think about it at all<em>

_**The Temper Trap – Soldier On**_

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><p>"Why do you think we're not dealing with a cheerleader-hating ghost?" John asked, nodding slightly.<p>

"Well," Dean hesitated, "The EMF readings were all kinds of wrong, and the murders… There's just too much creativity… Sure, they were all cheerleaders from Lincoln High, and they were all strangled and melted from the inside out… but the details… the details are wrong, dad. If we were dealing with some kind of vengeful spirit, wouldn't the details be the same as well?"

"I see your point," John nodded some more, deep in thought, "Okay boys, this means only one thing: research."

"Dad," Dean groaned. His head was killing him, he was not up for researching.

"No excuses, Dean," John said with a little smile, "If you can party like a man, then you can bear the consequences like one too. Research for you."

"Daddy," Sam gave his father his big-eyed look, "I have an 8000 word essay due Monday… it's really important, daddy… can I please, _please_ be excused for once? … Please?"

John grumbled something and looked from Sam to Dean, "Only for this once, Sam… But only because Dean needs to be taught a lesson."

"Thank you, daddy," Sam beamed. Dean glared at him, like it was Sam's fault he had a hangover.

"Thanks a lot, bitch," Dean snapped loud enough for Sam to hear, yet silent enough that his dad wouldn't. Sam looked slightly hurt and frowned.

"It's not my fault…" he started, but Dean interrupted him.

"Just shut up," Dean grumbled, "All your whiny blahblahblah is making my head throb."

"It's not Sam who's making your head throb," woops, apparently dad had heard him after all, "Get dressed, you and I are going to the library and the newspaper archives."

That being said, Dean and John spent their weekend going through books on local legends and old newspapers, trying to find out if this had happened before. Sam spent two full days working on his essay. Every time dad or Dean crossed him at the library, he was buried in a big pile of books, taking notes on different sheets of paper. By Sunday night Sam was finally finished, and dad and Dean had found nothing. At all. It was frustrating, really.

When Sam woke up Monday morning, he still felt sick. The last two days had been bearable, mostly because he was so concentrated on his essay that he barely had time to think about his upset stomach. On Monday morning though, his stomach cramped painfully and he felt the urge to jam his finger down his throat so he would throw up and get this over with. Maybe if he vomited and he got it out of his system, he wouldn't feel so sick. This was worse than the stomach cramps he had when he was stressed out over an important exam, or that time that ghost had almost ripped Dean to little pieces – because of a mistake Sam had made.

He ate – but only because he didn't want to get into another fight with his father over it – and showered. He checked to make sure he'd put his essay in his bag. He was certain he was going to get a good grade for it. He'd worked hard on it, and he was actually proud of it. It was an interesting subject – witch burnings – and he'd been able to put a lot of himself into it. Yes, this was definitely going to get him a good grade.

His smile disappeared by the time Dean pulled into the parking lot of the school. His stomach knotted and he swallowed hard. He wished Dean would turn around and drive back to the motel. But Dean didn't. His brother got out of the car, yelled at Sam to _hurry the hell up,_ locked the Impala and almost ran to his friends.

When Dean saw his friends, his heart leapt with joy. He couldn't help but get excited and wanting to be near them, listen to them telling about their weekends and joke around and gossip about teachers and other students. They made him smile.

When he came closer, his smile disappeared from his face though. Alexis was wrapped in Amy's arms and appeared to be crying her eyes out, sobbing loudly and brokenly. Paco and Daniel both looked like they wanted to punch someone in the face and glared at everyone who dared looking curiously at them. Dean blinked, confused and concerned. He'd never felt concerned like this over anyone but Sam and dad.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. Patting Alexis awkwardly on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"It's horrible!" Alexis cried, shaking her head, "It's unfair!"

Dean felt even more confused. He knew a lot of unfair things, but couldn't pick which one would apply to his extravagant friend.

"Can I tell him?" Daniel asked in a low voice. Alexis looked up, tears and mascara running down her face. It made Dean's heart ache, seeing her like this. She nodded and gratefully accepted the tissue Paco offered her, wiping her face and blowing her nose. She took a few shaky breaths and her eyes filled with new tears.

"It's her parents," Daniel said with a worried face, when Alexis buried herself in Amy's arms once more, "They found her a partner."

"… sorry?" Dean frowned, feeling even more confused.

"Alexis is Jewish," Daniel explained, "She's being married off."

"Wow," Dean almost whistled from surprise, "For real?"

"Yeah," Alexis unburied her head to look at him, "All my sisters were allowed to find their own husbands… but me… I'm getting _married_ this summer… to a jerk… that I don't even know…"

More tears fell and Dean felt unbelievably sorry for her. She was barely 18 and she was going to marry someone she didn't love. And then what? Stay at home and take care of the husband? He couldn't believe Alexis would be happy with that life.

"I'm sorry," he said and he patted her shoulder some more. For once in his life, he didn't know what to say or do, "Why you and not your sisters?"

"Because I'm _different_," she said with a sad smile, "Because I don't listen… because I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure, Alexis!" Amy said furiously.

"But I am," she whispered, hurt written clearly on her face, "To them, I am."

"Never," Amy whispered back, with tears in her own eyes. She hugged her friend more tightly, as if she was afraid that if she let go, Alexis would disappear forever, "Never."

- SPN -

When Dean walked away, Sam was left standing next to the sleek black Chevy. He still had his fingers on the handle and he was childishly afraid of breaking contact with it, as if the car would be able to keep him safe. And in a way, it always had. The Impala was his home.

When he finally found the courage to walk away from the Impala, he felt like everyone was staring at him, whispering about him. When he actually caught a few of the whispered words, he realized that it wasn't him they were discussing. It was the murders. He breathed a little easier at that, and the knots in his stomach loosened a little. Maybe today was going to be okay.

He listened in to as many conversations as he could, trying to hear whom they were suspecting. He heard a boy say something about Mr. Jordan being a total creep. Apparently there was a rumor about him trying to do funny business with some of the girls in the drama club. But that didn't fit any of the rest of the story. The dead girls were cheerios, and the girls had not been sexually assaulted. Sam shook his head. Mr. Jordan didn't sound like the killer to him. But maybe he should whisper _Christo_ to him, just in case. You never knew, right?

He put his essay in his locker and grabbed his books. When he was closing the door, someone pushed him and he slammed against the cold steel with a grunt. His hands started shaking and he accidently dropped his books, which dropped on his foot. Someone laughed loudly and he felt cold and hot at the same time. He slowly turned around to glare at his attacker. Gary, he should have known it.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. It would only make matters worse.

"Just…" he started, "Just leave me alone." _Losers._

"Just… Just… _just_…" Gary mocked him in a high voice, "Leave me _aloooone_… boohoohoo… I'm Lose-Chester and I'm a crybaby…"

Sam cringed when several people burst out laughing, pointing and whispering. He wanted to punch Gary in the face, but his friends looked pretty solid. He should have been able to take down Gary on his own, but not if his friends – or bodyguards, who knew – would throw themselves in the fight as well. He wondered why no one bullied Gary. After all, he was fat and fatties often got bullied. Maybe, being the bully was Gary's defense system. If only he made everyone afraid of him, they wouldn't dare saying anything to him. Sam almost felt bad for the blond.

Almost.

If the kid's mission hadn't been to make Sam's existence miserable.

Sam sighed and decided that ignoring them would be the best solution. He kneeled to take his books and closed his locker with a loud, angry _bam _that echoed through his head and the corridor.

"_Oooh_," Gary sneered, "Is Lose-Chester mad?"

Sam walked briskly away from them, but they followed him, yelling at him. He wished Dean was here, but Dean had been in a foul mood the last two days and he wondered if his brother would stand up for him, or stand aside and watch the show. He wished it wasn't the latter.

The bell rang loudly, interrupting his thoughts and sending his bullies to their classes. _Saved by the bell,_ he thought with a smile tugging on his lips. Sometimes, his life was so cliché.

"Susannah!" someone yelled in his ear. Sam jumped, startled. The girl who'd yelled in his ear walked past him, towards a small brunette, "Congrats on making the cheerios!"

The brunette – Susannah – was petted on her shoulder, hugged and kissed on both cheeks. She grinned widely, her head bobbing up and down in excitement. She looked a little younger than Dean and seemed a bit arrogant to Sam. She obviously knew she was pretty.

"Thank you," she said, flinging her hair over her shoulder, "With Tatiana, Chrissy and Esmeralda dead… Well, I'd say _good riddance_, but that sounds so… cruel? But at least I'm on the team now, so, yeah, good riddance, I guess."

The girl who'd yelled in Sam's ear laughed and threw an arm around her friend's shoulder, saying: "You're so funny."

Susannah grinned and they both walked past Sam, who stared at the two girls with wide eyes. Did that seriously just happen? That Susannah chick almost confessed to being the killer. Was she for real, or was she just trying to be interesting?

Dude, she as good as _confessed_! He had to tell Dean and dad when he came home. They would know what to do. They would probably stake out at Susannah's home and try to catch her in the act. He should go to the computer class during lunch and try to hack into the school files, so he could see where she lived. And what her last name was. Dad would be so proud if he was able to solve this.

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><p><strong>One of the most beautiful songs I know :)<br>**

**I wanted to write more, but I ran out of time :) I'm going to Miami for a week (omg I'm so excited, I've never been to the States before :D ) and I'm leaving tomorrow, and I wanted to give you guys a chapter this week, so yeah ^^ this is all I've got :) I'm not taking my laptop, but I'm taking my notebook so I can write on the plane and when I'm there :) **

**- Lune x**


	11. Losing Touch

**Woah, we reached 50 reviews :D I've never had 50 reviews in my life before ^^ thank you sweetie pies :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Losing Touch<strong>

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><p><em>I'm in no hurry, you go run<br>And tell your friends I'm losing touch  
>Fill their heads with rumors of impending doom<br>It must be true_

_Console me in my darkest hour_  
><em>And tell me that you'll always hear my cries<em>  
><em>I wonder what you got conspired<em>  
><em>I'm sure it was the consolation prize<em>

_**The Killers – Losing Touch**_

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><p>The classes went quite fast for once. With the idea of him solving the case and being able to move to the next town in his head, he was almost able to ignore the pestering. His stomach felt slightly better, although it played up again during lunch. He ate in a bathroom stall, like he did every lunch now. It was sad that sitting in a stinky bathroom stall made him more comfortable than being in the cafeteria. But at least here, no one came looking for him. Here, he was being left alone. That was good.<p>

When he was done eating, he went to the computer class. He found out that there were 3 Susannahs in their school: one was only a freshman like him, one was a strawberry blonde senior who was in the debate team. The third one was the right one. Susannah Winters, a reserve cheerleader until now, who lived on Crandon Road. His father would be proud. With this information, they could stake out at her house and catch her the moment she snuck out to kill another cheerleader.

He was taking his essay out of his locker, when he felt the presence of several people behind him. He almost didn't dare turning around, but knew from experience that hiding from his fears wouldn't make them go away. So he turned around.

"What's that, Whine-Chester?" Mia asked, pulling his essay from his hands, "_Witch Burnings_ by Sam Winchester," she cackled, "Oh my, did Loosy Loosy actually do his homework?"

"Give that back," Sam said in his most threatening voice. It didn't help that his voice hadn't reached a deep rumble like Dean's or dad's yet. He reached for his essay, but she stuck it high in the air. He was still a small boy – one of the smallest of his class – and she may be skinny, but she was long. He jumped for it, and they all laughed when he couldn't reach it.

"Give that back, Mia," he said again, louder. He was _not_ afraid of a girl. Not even a girl with a whole bunch of back-up.

"Ooh," she sneered. Her sneer broke off abruptly when Sam pushed her, and she stumbled backwards.

"You shouldn't have done that, Lose-Chester," she hissed angrily, glaring at him, "Look what you make me do."

She took Sam's essay in both hands and his heart froze when he heard the loud ripping noise. He felt his eyes grow big and his breathing turn harsh, while she tore apart his essay. It went in 2, in 4, in 8… in a gazillion different pieces. His heart restarted and beat rapidly. He was almost afraid it would break out of his chest and fall to the floor.

"No," Sam whispered and she let the pieces whirl to the floor with a laugh, "No… nonononono_no_…"

Oh God, he had spent his entire weekend on this… and she… she tore it apart. She _destroyed_ it. _With a laugh on her face._

"What did you _do_?" he asked furiously. He stepped forward, wanting to punch her in the face. But she was way faster than he'd expected. She pushed him back and slammed him against the lockers, keeping him in place with an arm pushed against his throat, blocking his airways. She might have been skinny, she weighed a lot more than he'd expected and he made an odd choking sound, trying to push her off him.

"I didn't do anything," she said, "You didn't do your homework, Whine-Chester."

"No," he gasped. She pinched his thigh and he almost screamed in pain. But he couldn't breathe. He groaned and tried to squirm away from her, but she pinched again, harder and closer to his crotch this time. He stilled, fearing she would pinch somewhere else next.

"Yes," she grumbled, "If you tell anyone about this, I swear to God I will find you and kill you."

She applied some extra pressure on Sam's throat and Sam could feel his eyes roll, desperate for oxygen. She loosened some of the pressure and he gasped and coughed. Somehow, her arm was swiftly replaced by an open pocketknife. He really was a lousy hunter if he hadn't seen that happening. But then again, he'd been too busy trying to draw in some air and making the black spots go away.

"I swear I'll kill you, Whine-Chester," she repeated in a low voice, pressing her knife against his throat with just not enough pressure to break his skin. He realized he was trembling, "Tell on me… and you're a goner."

There was something in her eyes that made him believe every word she said. He'd seen werewolves and ghosts and all kinds of demonic creatures, but Mia… Mia was a whole new level of freak. She was human and she enjoyed every moment of torturing him. That made her the worst monster of them all. His stomach rolled uncomfortably when he looked her in the eyes. She looked a lot like Dean who'd seen a monster he was planning on slaying.

She smiled kindly at him, "Do you understand?"

Sam found himself unable to say anything other than "yeah."

He jerked away from her and watched her and her friends walk away from him with big smiles on their faces. He stared helplessly at the shreds that had once been his amazing-grade-paper. It was like a fist clenched around his heart and he slit to the floor, banging the back of his head against the lockers repeatedly.

"Stupid," he mumbled and banged his head again, "Stupid, stupid, _stupid! _… I want to go _home_…"

But he couldn't, of course. For one, he didn't have a home. Second, his father would want to know what had happened if he came home early. Then he'd have to tell his dad and he _couldn't_ tell dad. Dad would be so disappointed in him. He'd tried to stand up against Mia and the only result was that his homework had been ripped to pieces. _Stupid!_ He should have kept his big mouth shut. Dad had been right about that all along.

He didn't want to get up, but he knew that if he didn't, he would be late. He didn't want to be late. Definitely not with the prospect of having no homework to hand in.

He considered picking up the pieces and showing them to his teacher, so that she would know that it wasn't his fault that he couldn't hand in his homework. But Mia and Gary would be there and if they saw him do that… he was certain they'd kill him. He had a knife in his backpack, but he couldn't just slit their throats, could he? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he killed a bunch of normal – albeit really mean – teenagers. He wished there was another school he could transfer to, but he knew that was out of the question.

His breath hitched a little when he scooped up the shreds and stuffed them in his bag. He swallowed hard and got up slowly, looking around. There weren't many people around, and those who were weren't interested in him at all. It didn't seem like someone had seen Mia threatening him. Good. It was humiliating enough as it was.

His legs were a bit wobbly and his stomach cramped painfully when he saw the open door to their classroom. How was he ever going to explain he didn't have his homework? This was an important essay. A really important one. His thigh was throbbing where Mia had pinched him and he had to lay his hand against the wall to steady himself for a couple of seconds. His heart was beating rapidly and painfully.

He barely heard anything of what was being said during class. He was terrified of the moment where his teacher would ask for their homework. His head was throbbing and he was sweating profusely. He could feel warm drops of sweat run down his back and he wished his shirt wasn't getting wet. That would only add to his embarrassment.

When his teacher asked him a question, he snapped out of his thoughts. When he asked her to repeat the question, she didn't look too happy, but when she realized he couldn't answer at all, she looked downright annoyed with him. She pursed her lips and glared at him.

"Pay attention, Winchester," she sighed, sounding disappointed and a little mad, "If you'd been paying attention, you would have known that the correct answer was Hoover during the Great Depression."

Someone giggled. Someone else whispered something.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He nervously rubbed his ankles together under his desk when his teacher stared at him for a couple of seconds.

"Good," she said a little louder, turning back to the class, "Like I was saying, Herbert Hoover…"

Sam zoned out again. Only 10 more minutes and class would be over and his teacher would collect their homework. If he'd known this weekend what he knew now, he wouldn't have bothered making it. He could have helped dad and Dean researching. Then maybe, they'd have found something by now and they'd be able to leave by tomorrow.

But then again, he _had_ found something. Susannah Winters.

When the bell rang, Sam felt his blood flow from his face. He slowly got up and saw the others take out their essays. Their teacher was standing by the door, with her hand held out. There was no way he'd be able to sneak past her. Maybe if he lingered and tried to explain what had happened.

But Mia and Gary were lingering as well. They were talking softly, sneaking glances at him. Mia giggled at something Gary said and they both looked at him again. They weren't planning on leaving the room any time soon. Sam took a deep breath. No, he couldn't explain it to their teacher. Mia would notice. Mia and Gary would kill him.

He tried to sneak past their teacher, but she grabbed his shoulder and turned him towards her, "Your paper, Sam."

"I…" Sam swallowed, his eyes darting to the open door. Laughter reached his ears and pierced through his head, "I… eh…"

"Yes?" she snapped. Usually she wasn't this bad. Usually she was fair. Maybe she had a bad day herself? Or maybe she was on her period? Ew.

"Didn't do your homework, Sam?" he heard Gary yell across the room. Sam blushed and lowered his eyes. He really didn't need this.

"No," he whispered, "No… I… I did it… really, I did it…"

"Then where is it?" his teacher asked.

"I…" Sam swallowed again, closed his eyes, "I don't have it."

"You don't have it," she clicked with her tongue and he could feel her stare. He still didn't dare looking up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I don't need your apology," she said, "I need your essay. But you don't have it, so don't bother, I don't need it anymore. That's an F."

"But that's not fair!" Sam yelled.

"It's not fair to the rest that you think you're so much above them you don't have to do your homework," she said, "An F. You disappoint me Sam. You disappoint me a lot."

"But-"

"No!" she raised her voice, "_Enough_ Sam. You think you're so special you're above everyone else. Well, I'm sorry to burst your little bubble, but you aren't. This is an F on your report card, next time you fail to do your homework, you'll have detention."

Sam nodded and quickly left the class. His eyes were burning and he couldn't stop the tears from welling. He blindly made his way to the bathroom and locked himself up once more. He didn't want anyone else to see how weak and pathetic he was.

He sat down on the closed lid and dropped his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with held in sobs and his breath hitched and for the first time since this nightmare had started, Sam cried.

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><p><strong>Because I once burst out crying in class because it just wasn't fair. But don't worry no one ripped my homework to pieces :)<br>**

**Anyway, I'm baaaaaack :D did you miss me? ^^ Miami was AWESOME :D Well, I actually didn't really make it to Downtown Miami, but Key Biscayne was amazing :D I even got a slight tan ^^ So I spent my days sunbathing (shadowbathing actually, it was too hot in the sun ^^) and making long walks along the beach :D I found out I'm not afraid of planes anymore ^^ I was freaking out when we were at the first airport, but then we took off and I wasn't scared anymore ^^ it felt a bit like a fairground attraction ^^ I watched Marley and Me in the plane and I cried my eyes out ^^ my dad came back from the bathroom (I went with my dad) and he was like: "did that dog die _again_?" But I wasn't the only one crying ;) I had so much fun, America really is great :D It looked just like a movie ^^ and I saw my first Killer Whale (in the aquarium, but still ;) ) and now I have a major jetlag ^^ Different timezones really do suck ;) It's a 6 hour time difference, so I can't fall asleep at night anymore, since I'm still in Miami time ^^**

**Anyway, that doesn't interest many people ^^ **

**Only three more days and the new season is there :D I can't wait! I've seen the preview and it looks awesome, as always ^^**

**I'll stop rambling now ;)  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	12. Into the Ocean

**Warning for language  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Into the Ocean<strong>

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><p><em>I'm just a normal boy that sank when I fell overboard<br>My ship would leave the country, but I'd rather swim ashore.  
>Without a life-vest I'd be stuck again.<br>Wish I was much more masculine._

_I wanna swim away but don't know how.  
>Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean.<br>Let the waves up; take me down.  
>Let the hurricane set in motion, yea.<br>Let the rain of what I feel right now come down._

_I keep looking each direction for a spotlight; give me something.  
>I need something for protection.<em>

_**Blue October – Into the Ocean**_

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><p>He tried to make as little noise as possible. The silent sobs wrecked his body and his ragged breathing left him a little dizzy. He pressed his hands against his eyes as if that would stop the tears from falling. He cried and cried and tears ran down his cheeks. He wanted to scream, to punch something or someone. He wanted to crawl in his bed and never wake up again. This was humiliating. How could he not be afraid of a freaking ghost – okay, that wasn't entirely true, he was pretty scared of ghosts and other supernatural freaks – and be terrified of a bunch of stupid teenagers?<p>

He wished his mother was still alive. On TV, mothers always made everything better. She would hug him and whisper sweet things in his ears. She would protect him from everything he needed protection from. She would be a female Dean. Plus the hugging.

He could hear himself blubbering and tried to be quieter. That only made it worse though, and his sobs sounded louder than before. God, he hoped no one would hear him. But what would it matter? They already thought he was a freak anyway. They didn't like him and they never would. He wished Dean was here. But then again, he didn't want Dean to see him like this. Dean would call him a baby and make fun of him.

He just didn't want to be alone anymore.

He drew his knees up and rested his head on them, hugging his legs. He tried to take deep, calming breaths. Why did they pick on him? Why always on him? He rubbed his throat, closed his eyes and blew out another deep, shaky breath. His sobs were quieting down and tears only fell occasionally anymore.

Someone entered the bathroom and did his business in the stall next to him. Sam blocked out the sounds and tried to hold his breath, so he wouldn't give away that he was there too. The other one left again. He knew he was missing his last class of the day, but he didn't even care. It scared him that he didn't care though, and he wondered if there was something defective in his head. _Kaputt_, like that cute German exchange student Dean had dated in Toledo would have said. What was her name again?

_Nadine_. She'd been kind and a bit shy. A big plus for Dean was that exchange students didn't expect long lasting relationships.

Sam brushed his sleeve past his eyes, sighing. He'd stopped crying and the sad, lost feeling had made place for a drained one. He closed his eyes again, wondering if he'd be able to fall asleep like this. He felt like a character in a soap opera. And he hadn't even told anyone anything yet. He wasn't planning to either. His family didn't need to know, he could solve this on his own.

Or maybe he couldn't solve this at all, but he still didn't want Dean and dad to know. They would be disappointed. He didn't want them to be disappointed. He wanted them to be proud of him. He had after all found out about Susannah Winters.

Yes, his father would be proud of him.

When the bell rang to announce the end of the day, Sam stayed a little longer. He would need to get his books from his locker, and if he lingered here, there would be less of a chance he'd run into one of the meanies.

_Meanies_… listen to him talking! He needed to man up and stop being weak. He was a trained hunter for goodness' sake! But the thought of going out there and having to face his bullies made his knees weak and his stomach clench.

He swung his bag over his shoulder and unlocked the door. Someone was talking in a cell phone, not paying attention to Sam at all. Someone else shoved him on his way to his locker, but he was used to that by now. He figured he'd get quite muscular shoulders by the end of this job if they kept doing that. Or just bruises.

His eyes darted around, but he didn't see 'the big enemies'. He breathed a little easier at that and hurriedly changed the books in his bag for the ones in his locker. He almost ran out of the building and onto the parking lot. He scanned the cars and he frowned when he didn't see the Impala. When he looked again and still didn't see the car, his heart sped up and his mouth went dry. Where was it?

Now he did run, his panicked mind taking in all the different vehicles. No Impala. She was gone.

He couldn't believe it, didn't _want_ to believe it. Dean had _left_ him here. Dean had left without him. Dean hadn't waited…

"Dean," he breathed. He must have looked comical, his eyes big and his head darting around quickly hoping to just have missed the black Chevy, "DEAN!"

How could Dean have left him? Dean wouldn't do that I him. Not Dean. Please… not Dean too…

He ran off the school ground and onto the road, looking around. Maybe Dean had just made place for someone or something. Maybe he was waiting somewhere on the road. Maybe he was pranking him?

There was no sight of Dean or the Impala. His hands started shaking and he knew he was breathing too fast, but he couldn't help it. He swore under his breath on his way home. It was a good 30 minutes walk, so nothing he couldn't deal with, but Dean leaving him behind like this… that was… he didn't even have words for it.

When he finally arrived at the motel, he was fuming. He burst through the door and saw his brother sitting on his bed, talking on the phone. He didn't know where dad was.

"Where _were_ you?" he demanded, throwing his bag in a corner.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked innocently.

"You know damn well what I mean, you prick!" Sam yelled, "You left me behind!"

"Oh please, Sam," Dean rolled his eyes, "Don't be a girl."

"Why would you do that to me?" Sam knew he didn't sound very manly when he screeched like that, but he didn't even care. He wanted to punch Dean, throw his fist in his brother's nose. Wanted to let out all the anger and frustration and fear that had been bottling up since they'd gotten here.

"I gave the Outcasts a ride home," Dean said, shrugging.

"You care more about your stupid friends than about me!" Sam was blinded by angry tears. He angrily wiped his eyes. He'd cried more than enough for one day. He'd cried enough for the entire year, if he had a say in it.

"You're such a dramaqueen!" Dean was getting angry too, "You're so selfish! It's always 'Sam, Sam, _Sam'_. Well, grow up, Sam, the world doesn't evolve around you!"

"No," Sam sneered, "it obviously revolves around those stupid friends of yours! I _hate_ them!"

"Is this what this is all about?" Dean screamed, pushing Sam backwards until he stumbled into the table, "You can have all the friends you want, having fun and joking around and having someone who _fucking_ cares about you, _but I can't?_ You don't want me to have _friends_? You want to claim me all for yourself, you selfish asshole! Well, guess what, I don't _need_ you anymore. Maybe I never even needed you to begin with."

Sam knew Dean was lying, but it still stung like hell. With a raw cry he jumped at his brother's throat and punched him in the jaw, only to have Dean punch him right back. They fell to the floor and wrestled to gain the upper hand. Dean mercilessly grabbed Sam's head by his hair and slammed it against the floor. Not hard enough to cause any real injuries, but hard enough to leave a bruise and make Sam see stars for a few seconds.

"I hate you!" Sam yelled, tears streaming down his face as he tried to push Dean off of him, "I _hate_ you!"

"Well, good," Dean had stopped yelling, was crawling off of Sam. He used that calm and emotionless voice he usually reserved for people who weren't even worth his time, "I don't really care. You're even below hating. You barely _exist_ for me."

Dean knew he was lying, but his brother's words really hurt. It was unfair that Sam could always have the friends and the fun, but when Dean wanted to touch normalcy, Sam would get jealous. Well, screw him. Dean deserved some good times as well.

"I wish you get hit by a car!" Sam cried from the floor, throwing a book that had fallen in their mad wrestle at his brother's head. _Fantastic beasts and where to find them._ Dean dodged the book, turned away from Sam.

"Likewise," he said in that cold, detached voice.

"That's _enough_!" their father's booming voice interrupted whatever Sam was going to say next. Both boys snapped their necks towards the older Winchester. John looked outraged, pale and shocked upon hearing the things that came from his boys' mouths.

"Enough," John repeated, "What is it with you two? Ever since we got here, you've been acting strange."

"It's Dean-" Sam started, but he was quickly cut off by his father.

"SAM!" John hollered, "What part of enough didn't you understand?"

Sam blushed and lowered his gaze. He hadn't noticed his father entering, hadn't wanted for him to overhear him. Of course he didn't really want Dean to get hit by a car. But he was almost seeing red. Dean had left him behind. _Dean_, of all people.

"Apologize," John ordered. He grabbed both his boys' shoulders in a painful grasp and placed them in front of each other, "You know the rules. Shake each other's hand and _apologize_."

The brothers looked away from each other. Neither of them moved.

"Now!" John ordered, squeezing their shoulders painfully. Reluctantly, Sam moved his hand forward. Dean grabbed it, shook it quickly and let go of it again. They still weren't looking at each other.

"I'm listening," John said sternly.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. He hadn't wanted to leave his brother behind or freak him out. He'd forgotten he had to bring Sam home. And the whiny little voice that had told him to turn around and pick up his brother, was silenced by a louder voice that yelled that Sam was a big boy and could take care of himself.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled back. Didn't mean he wasn't still mad though.

"Good," John released his grip, "I don't want to hear another word from you two for the rest of the evening."

Dean turned around and grabbed his jacket on his way. He was almost at the door when his father's voice stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out," was the curt answer.

"No," was the even curter reply, "You're grounded."

Dean grumbled something about pain in the ass little brothers and disappeared into the bathroom. It slammed shut with a loud bang and Sam winced. John sighed and shook his head. He picked up the book Sam had thrown and opened it at a seemingly random place.

It wasn't until dinner that Dean came out of the bathroom again. He seemed to have calmed down a little, but was still ignoring Sam, who didn't notice since he was ignoring Dean as well. Sam had considered telling his father about the F on his paper, but had decided against it. He would find out soon enough. During dinner, Sam decided that he had shut up for long enough now, and it was safe to speak again.

"Dad," he said. John grumbled something, Dean slammed down his fork on his plate.

"I overheard a girl talking today," Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes, "I think she might be the killer."

Now that drew their attention. Even Dean gave up ignoring Sam to stare – glare? – at him. Sam gave them a small, slightly nervous smile.

"She told her friend she was happy the girls were dead," he explained, "She said 'good riddance'. I looked her up. Her name is Susannah Winters and she lives on Crandon Road. I thought… maybe… we could check it out?"

John blinked and a grin crept on his face, "Good job, Sammy."

He patted his son on the back and got up from the table, "Boys, finish your meals. We're staking out at Crandon Road tonight."

All three Winchesters quickly packed their stuff. Dean was excited they'd get some action and Sam was excited about the thought that they might leave this town soon. While in the car, John explained some basic stuff that they both knew already. He parked in front of Susannah's house: white, three stories tall with a huge old oak in the front garden and blue window frames. It didn't look like the house of a killer, but then again, it usually didn't.

They sat in the car and waited. Susannah's bedroom turned out to be on the front of the house. She was standing in front of her window, talking in her phone. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders and she was wearing a big sleep shirt with Mickey Mouse on it. She took forever on the phone. Sometimes she disappeared into her room with the thing still pressed against her ear, then she came back to stand in front of her window. Sometimes she peered out of it, sometimes she had her back towards it.

Someone rang their doorbell and a big man – Susannah's father, they supposed – opened it. They talked for a few minutes and the woman left again. Susannah hung up the phone and opened her window to sit on the windowsill. She placed a magazine in front of her and started brushing her hair. That took almost longer than her phone call. Dean was getting bored.

A younger girl entered the room and the two siblings had a shouting match. The younger one left again. Sam yawned and rubbed his fist in his eye.

Susannah closed the window again and pulled the curtains close as well. They could see her move through the curtain until she switched off the light. A little later, the light in the hallway shut off as well. Another light upstairs lit up and her parents entered their bedroom. Susannah's mom gave her father a light kiss on his lips, their curtains closed as well and the lights went out. Everyone had gone to sleep. John wondered if they'd have to come back tomorrow, or just wait a little longer for some action to happen.

Sam yawned again. Dean's eyes were drooping. John decided to wait another 30 minutes and then go back to the motel, but he didn't think Susannah would strike tonight.

"We'll come back tomorrow," John said around 1 am as he started the car. Dean nodded and yawned, stretching. Sam had fallen asleep on the backseat. Their ride back was silent. John was tired and a bit disappointed. Not in Sam, but in himself. He should have cracked this case already. These girls shouldn't have died. But it could still be Susannah. After all, there hadn't been murders every night. It was still possible that if they came back tomorrow, that they'd catch her in the act.

That hope was quickly shattered when he saw flashing blue and red lights when he drove past the school.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, there are several things I need to say.<strong>

**1. (this one goes back a few chapters, but I forgot to mention it then) I'm not jewish. I'm not too certain about jewish rituals either, but I thought I'd read somewhere that jewish people marry out their children. If I'm mistaken, we'll just call it poetical freedom. I hope I didn't offend any real jews with wrong information about their culture :/ if I did: sorry guys!**

**2. A big wink to Rowling in this chapter ^^_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ belongs to her, my favorite author ever!**

**3. I was playing around with photoshop and I made a bookcover for the story ^^ don't expect too much of it, I'm still a real photoshop newbie, but I had fun making it and I thought I could share it with you guys ^^ .  
>img825[DOT]imageshack[DOT]usimg825/5903/thelonelybookcoverii[DOT]png (replace the [DOT]'s by actual dots to use the link)  
><strong>

**4. The ages of the Outcasts. Forgot to mention them as well ;) Amy and Daniel are 17 like Dean, Paco and Alexis are 18. **

**5. University starts again on tuesday, so I won't be able to post chapters as often anymore.. but I'm thinking one chapter each week. That should be possible.**

**6. I forgot the rest, but I'm sure it'll come back to me by the next chapter ;)**

**- Lune x**


	13. Wish You Were Here

**Chapter 13: Wish you were here**

* * *

><p><em>So, so you think you can tell<br>Heaven from Hell._

_And did they get you to trade  
>Your heroes for ghosts?<em>

_How I wish, how I wish you were here.  
>We're just two lost souls<br>Swimming in a fish bowl,  
>Year after year.<br>Running over the same old ground,  
>What have we found?<br>The same old fears.  
>Wish you were here.<em>

_**Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here**_

* * *

><p>"Oh, come on!" John yelled, punching the steering wheel. Sam grunted something from the backseat and pushed himself groggily upright. Dean's mouth hung open a little, as if he had trouble processing what was happening in front of him.<p>

John pulled over and all three Winchesters quickly got out of the car. A few people were watching the police officers and paramedics. None of them spoke, one woman was crying silently. The atmosphere made Dean a little nervous.

"What's going on?" John asked quietly. The man next to him answered without taking his eyes off the scene.

"They found another body," the man shook his head, "They wouldn't tell us who it is, but I'm pretty certain it's Kathrine Eveland. Her parents arrived about half an hour ago. They were the only ones allowed on the crime-scene. Apart from the doctors and officers that is."

"Who's Kathrine?" John whispered towards his sons. Sam shrugged, Dean looked confused.

"She's in my science class…" Dean mumbled, "But it can't be her… I mean… she's not a cheerleader."

"She's not?" John frowned. Dean shook his head.

"She was the head of the school paper," Amy had let him read one of Kathrine's pieces. She'd been pretty good.

"Maybe it's someone else then?" Sam said.

"Someone else who's dead?" John wondered, "but then why would they let Kathrine's parents on the crime scene?"

"No, no…" Sam shook his head, "Another killer. Maybe a coincidence? Or maybe even a copycat?"

"A copycat," Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. But deep down, he knew that that was indeed a possibility.

There was commotion at the front doors of the school. They opened and a screaming woman was led outside by a crying man. Kathrine's parents, most likely. The woman stumbled and when her husband tried to catch her, she punched him in the face and stumbled farther away from him.

"No!" she screamed in a broken voice, "No! That's my _daughter_! That's my Kathrine! _No_!"

The man threw his arms around his wife as her knees buckled and they could hear her sobbing as she hid her face in her husband's neck. The man cried harder, shaking his head, as if he couldn't grasp the thought that he would never see his daughter again. A paramedic guided both of them towards an ambulance, when the doors opened again and a stretcher was rolled out. There was obviously someone _on_ the stretcher, but the body was hidden under a white blanket. It was stained with something that could have been blood, but that Sam suspected to be the girl's melted organs. The spectators craned their necks to get a good view.

When the stretcher rolled past them, one of the wheels got stuck behind a stone, and the stretcher wavered. For a moment, Sam though it would turn over, but then the paramedics were able to stabilize the thing again. A pale arm floppily fell from under the blanket. The slightly chubby fingers and manicured nails pointed towards the ground, as if there was something there that they should check out. Sam's breath hitched in his throat when he saw Kathrine's bare arm. A long text – or at least, what looked like a text – was written over her arm and hand in a thick black marker. He couldn't make out what exactly it was that was written there, but he didn't think this was an entirely different murder. This was either a copycat, or the same killer. He hoped it was the same killer. Then he would have been wrong about Susannah, but at least they wouldn't have to deal with two psychopathic supernatural killers. He shook his head.

"I've seen enough," John said, "C'mon boys, let's go."

John guided his sons back to the car. All three of them were silent while they drove back to the motel. If this was the same killer, then why would he have suddenly changed from cheerleaders to girls who worked for the school paper? If this was a copycat, then they had a serious problem. A second killer would mean twice as many dead bodies in a short time. This was getting out of control.

John left his boys in their room and went to his own. The morgue files wouldn't be online yet. Maybe tomorrow morning. He'd seen the text on Kathrine's arm as well, and he wanted to know what it was that was written on it. It could be a clue. Maybe he should break into the morgue. Seeing the body for real was still very different from seeing pictures of it. He could leave Sam here, the boy was still a kid. But Dean should probably come. He could learn something from it, and two pairs of eyes were better than one.

None of them slept much that night. It was starting to get time they could catch this monster.

When Dean drove Sam to school the next morning, things were still awkward between them. Both boys refused to speak to the other one, and Dean had yanked up the music so he wouldn't have to hear the uncomfortable silence. When Dean parked the car, Sam had the door open before the engine was off.

"Sam," Dean said. Sam looked over his shoulder, his expression blank, "You can walk home, right? I don't _have_ to wait for you, do I? Because, the Outcasts…"

Sam's eyes flared when he mentioned his friends, but the expressionless mask was quickly pasted on his face again, "Whatever. I'm not a baby anymore."

Sam slammed the door shut with a little more force than necessary and Dean winced. _See_, he told himself, _Sam is a big boy. He doesn't really need me._

The thought that Sam didn't need him anymore, hurt. He closed his eyes for a second and breathed in deeply. He was glad he'd found his friends. At least they still liked to be around him. Sam was just bitchy and high on angry teenage hormones. And he didn't need Dean anymore. Dean pressed his hands against his eyes and sighed. Where was the time Sam needed him for every little thing? But they were right. He had to let Sam grow up; he couldn't baby him for the rest of his life.

Someone knocked on his window and Dean was startled out of his thoughts. _Sam?_ But no, not Sam. Daniel was grinning at him, waiting for him to get out of the car. Dean smiled, feeling that weird, warm feeling flow through him that he usually only had when he looked at Sam. He wondered where the rest was.

"You weren't planning on driving back home and abandoning us, were you?" Paco asked him with a wink when he excited from the car. Dean laughed and shook his head. Since when did he ever abandon anyone?

"Good," Paco grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Have you seen Alexis and Amy yet?"

"Nope," Dean shrugged, looking around.

"I liked Alexis' dress yesterday evening," Paco said, looking at Daniel, "That girl's got a gift."

Daniel nodded, "Yeah, it looked good on her." He must have seen Dean's slightly confused look, 'cause he added: "She makes her clothes herself, didn't you notice?"

Well, yeah, Dean had noticed that she wore very special clothes. But no, he hadn't thought that she made them herself. I mean, why would he? He didn't pay a lot of attention to anyone's clothes. Except for his own, maybe. According to Sam and dad, he spent too much attention to his own clothes and general appearance. But a guy had to look good, right?

"She made us all a piece of clothing last year for Christmas," Daniel grinned, "That was pretty cool."

Dean grinned as well, but he wouldn't call it 'cool'. Clothes weren't supposed to be made by friends. Clothes were supposed to be bought. Or be like dad's leather jacket that he was wearing. He touched the amulet Sam had given him for Christmas a few years ago. His friends probably wouldn't consider that cool either, but he was proud of it. Maybe this was what they felt about the clothes Alexis had made them?

"Oh shit," Daniel suddenly breathed. Dean looked up in surprise and saw Dan's shocked expression, staring at something in the distance.

"Is that… Alexis?" Paco asked, "That's not good, man… not good at all…"

"Hi guys!" Alexis yelled, and finally Dean noticed her. No, this definitely wasn't good. She had cut off her hair. It was short – shorter than Sam's – and messy and just plain weird. She had had long, dark brown hair with some pink dye in it before, but now it was white. With blue in it. Dean felt his mouth fall open. He hadn't particularly liked her hair before, but now… now he downright hated it. It made her look boyish and… _lost_. And it made her big nose look even bigger.

"Alexis," he said softly, "What did you _do_?"

She gave him a big bright smile and touched her hair, "You like it?"

Dean didn't know what to say. It would be a bit rude to say no, but he didn't want to lie to her and say yes.

"No," Daniel said, "Why did you do it?"

She looked at him with a hurt look in her eyes, "I was bored. I like my new look a lot better."

"No, you don't," Paco said with a soft voice and a frown.

She shrugged, sighed, "I don't know… I was so angry! My parents… they kept telling me I had to behave and get the pink out of my hair. Apparently they fear Elior won't marry me anymore if I have pink in my hair. So I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the pink strands out of it to show them… I don't even know what I wanted to show them… and then I saw myself in the mirror… and I looked hideous… and I don't know, Paco… I just cut the rest of and then bleached it… and I still didn't like it, so I bought blue dye – because the pink one causes the cancel of my stupid marriage – and I dyed my hair blue… and now I look like this…"

She pointed to her head and closed her eyes for a second, "And I hate it."

"It'll be okay, Lexy," Daniel said and he threw an arm around her shoulder, "It'll grow back."

"By the time it's grown back I'll be wearing a freaking wig," she kicked against a small stone and it hit Amy, who was just arriving.

"Oh, Alexis," she sighed and the corner of her mouth went down when she saw what her friend looked like. She shook her head and touched the other girl's cheek, smiling sadly.

"I'm fine," Alexis said, swallowing hard, "Really, I'm fine. I've had worse."

"Like that time you dyed your hair pink," Daniel said, carefully teasing.

"Shut up, Dan," Alexis shoved him, but a small grin tugged at her lips.

"Or that time you got a tattoo," Daniel grinned, "And then another, and then another."

"Shut up," she shoved him harder, and her grin grew bigger, "I hate you."

They entered the building and were greeted by a wall of whispering and pointing students. Alexis blushed and cast her eyes down. Amy took her hand and gently squeezed it. Paco realized it wasn't because of Alexis they were being pointed at.

"Cute brother you've got," he said in a mocking voice, looking at Dean. He pulled a colorful piece of paper from the wall and held it up in front of him. It wasn't until now that Dean noticed the colorful papers were _everywhere_. And everyone seemed to have read them.

"Oh God," Dean groaned when he read what was on it, "This isn't happening."

Amy looked at the text and grimaced, "Yeah, it is."

"Shit!" he swore, stomping his foot and ripping the offensive thing in his hands, "Why does Sam always have to embarrass me like that?"

When Sam had entered the building about 15 minutes earlier, people had been pointing and laughing at him as well. He looked away from them and hunched his shoulders. They were laughing out loud, not even a little ashamed, and yelled offensive names at him.

"You'd do it for free, right?" someone asked him loudly and Sam looked up at the guy, confused. Do what?

That's when he saw the pink sheet, lying on the floor. He noticed with a shock that it had his name on it, so he stopped death in his tracks and slowly picked it up. It looked like a small news article; with a head, some text and a picture.

_Sam Winchester sucks cock._

That's what the title read. It had a picture of him su- … Sam felt his eyes grow big and the blood drain from his face. He had not, and would never do something like that. He didn't understand how they got the picture, since he was 100% certain that that had never ever happened. It was gross and disturbing and he could feel his heartbeat accelerating as he looked up and saw the hundreds upon hundreds of colorful pieces of paper. Each of them with a horrible lie on them, and a picture of him. Pictures of him doing things he'd never do, so he didn't _understand_…

The laughter of the people around him grew louder and he started sweating. It was like the image was too bright, almost unreal. He staggered forward and his vision swam and he_ couldn't breathe_. This wasn't happening… this couldn't be happening… he'd never done things like that, and yet there were pictures of him doing it.

"Like the Photoshop, loser?" Peter Barcus from his PE class asked with a laugh. Sam couldn't grasp it. He heard the words, but they didn't make any sense and Peter's voice was all kinds of wrong and he still couldn't _breathe_. He pulled the flyers off the walls, and threw them in the trashcan without it even registering to him that he was doing it. Not only his hands were trembling, but his whole body was shaking and there was a weird tingling in his fingers. He dropped the papers and doubled over. He could hear himself breathing, so why did he feel like there just wasn't enough oxygen in the air?

He felt lightheaded and when he pushed himself up again, a wave of dizziness crashed over him and he stumbled away from the laughing, pointing people. They were _everywhere_. _Everyone_ had read the lies and believed them. He locked himself up in a bathroom stall – _again_, he thought vaguely – and he cried out in pain and shame, pulling his hair with his shaking hands. He was choking and he tried to pull his collar away from his neck so he would finally be able to breathe.

He banged his fists on the wood and sobbed, making strangled noises. But he barely even heared them, didn't realize it was him making those animalistic sounds. If only someone could shut that person up, he was making Sam crazy. He screamed again – a hoarse, breathless scream – and gagged and realized with a jolt that he was going to be sick.

He fell to his knees and retched, but nothing came up. He retched and gagged and spat strings of saliva into the bowl, but his stomach contents stayed down. He wished he'd just hurl already and get this over with. He still couldn't breathe and there were dark spots clouding his vision and suddenly, he wasn't so sure anymore if he was going to be sick or just faint. He tried to clutch the seat, but his fingers didn't do what he wanted them to. He moaned softly, wishing Dean was here. But Dean wouldn't be able to make things better again. Even Dean wouldn't be able to solve this.

He was on his own.

* * *

><p><strong>I've been really sick this week, so I hope the chapter makes some sense ^^ <strong>

**So... college started again and it's looking good ^^ I have to write a bunch of papers and give a presentation and I'm going to have SO much work this semester -_-' **

**I was planning on updating every Sunday from now on, but the chapter was finished so I wanted to give it to you :) I hope you liked it!**

**And just some random thought: _Wish you were here_ was one of the first Pink Floyd songs I knew ^^  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	14. Losing My Religion

**Chapter 14: Losing My Religion**

* * *

><p><em>That's me in the corner<br>That's me in the spotlight  
>Losing my religion<br>Trying to keep up with you  
>And I don't know if I can do it<br>Oh no I've said too much  
>I haven't said enough<br>I thought that I heard you laughing  
>I thought that I heard you sing<br>I think I thought I saw you try_

_But that was just a dream_  
><em>Try, cry, why try?<em>  
><em>That was just a dream<em>  
><em>Just a dream<em>  
><em>Just a dream, dream<em>

_**R.E.M. – Losing My Religion**_

* * *

><p>Sam didn't come out of the bathroom for the rest of the day. If anyone called his father, so be it. He was too ashamed and humiliated to move away from the safety and anonymity of the small, stinky stall. It took him a long while to calm down enough to sit up straight without thinking he was going to be sick or faint. A couple of times, he considered leaving his stall and go back to class, pretend nothing had happened, but every time his fingers touched the handle, panic shot through his body and he had trouble breathing – and remaining standing – again. So he just sat it out, waited and counted the hours that crept by. He did some homework, listened to some conversations. He definitely was today's hot topic. That didn't surprise him, with the little – <em>little?<em> – stunt Peter Barcus had pulled. He wondered if it had been just his idea. Probably not. He guessed at least 5 persons must have been in on this. Maybe even more.

Sometime around lunch, he heard his name again. He wanted to block the conversation out, because he didn't think he could handle any more mean things being said about him. But these boys' voices sounded different, softer. Almost compassionate. He held his breath and pressed his ear against the wood.

"… -eriously, poor kid," boy n°1 sighed. The other one hummed in agreement.

"I feel sorry for him, you know," boy n°1 again, "What they did…"

A rustle, like someone shaking their head in disbelief.

"Have the teachers found out who did it yet?" boy n° 2 asked. A disapproving snort from n°1.

"Right… like they're even looking," probably an eye-roll, "You know how it works: they pretend nothing happens, until it really gets out of hand. And then they blame it on you… No, they're still hushing things up."

"He must feel awful," n°2 sighed. The sound of running water in the sink.

"You want to go to the kid and befriend him?" there was a lot of doubt in n°1's voice.

"Hell no," something dropped, a muffled curse, "But still… I really do feel bad for him."

"Feel bad for yourself," n°1 answered, "We went through the same hell. The kid will just have to man up until they find someone new to torture."

"I'm lucky you came to the school," n°2 softly laughed.

"Oh yeah," n°1 managed to sound amused, annoyed and angry at the same time, "_You_ were lucky. They left you alone, but only because they moved on to me."

"Sorry," n°2 said softly.

"It's not you who should apologize," n°1 answered grimly, "Hey Pete, have you seen my-"

N°1 breathed in sharply as the door opened. There was a moment of tense silence.

"_Frank_enstein, Pete-dead-meat," the newcomer sneered, "How _lovely_ to see you two losers."

Pete and Frank almost ran out of the bathroom and the newcomer laughed. Sam retracted his head from the cold wood. Only three more hours and he could go home. But he wouldn't be able to hide into the safety of the Impala. No. Because Dean – jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk, _jerk_! – had decided that his friends meant more to him than Sam. Sam balled his fists.

When he walked through the school later that day, long after the final bell had rang, he tried to ignore the stares and the whispers. It had taken him 10 minutes, just to convince himself to open the damn door and go home. His hands were shaking in his pockets and he could feel his eye spasm nervously. He wanted to slap his hand in front of it to hide it from the world, but instead he shook his head a little, so his hair would hide it.

That's why he didn't notice the teacher until he walked into her. He looked up in shock and held his breath, afraid it would be one of the bullies. When he made eye contact with the young woman, she blushed and looked away. She quickly jumped back, as if he'd burned her. Then she almost ran away from him, the high click-clack noises of her heels making his heart ache. Pete and Frank were right. The teachers didn't do anything about it. They tried to ignore it.

When he walked out on the parking lot, the vague hope he'd felt to see the Impala quickly left him. Of course Dean was gone. He'd told him so, hadn't he? He wondered if the Outcasts really were so much better than him. Probably, if Dean decided to trade him for them.

He was very silent that evening. He didn't talk to Dean and barely said a word to his father. When his father asked him what was wrong, he told him he was just tired. So his dad let him go to bed early and Dean and John moved to his dad's room, so Sam would be able to sleep. Only, he wasn't able to sleep. Even though he was really tired.

He listened to his father and Dean's voices from the room next door. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could hear Dean laughing. He sighed and rolled over. He tried to think about nice things, like having a mother and living in one place for his whole life and having really cool friends at school. He shook his head when those thoughts only managed to make him sad.

When he heard the door open later that evening, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn't want to talk to Dean. Dean was no longer on his side. He listened to his brother movements in the bathroom and traced his steps around the room. His bed creaked when he lay down and he sighed. Sam wanted to sigh as well.

Dean mumbled something and Sam could feel him staring at him. But he didn't open his eyes. He didn't need Dean to tell him how much of a loser he was. Surely, Dean must have seen the cute little pamphlets they had made at school. But as long as Dean didn't start about it, he wasn't going to bring it up. It was humiliating enough as it was. What if Dean had told dad?

Oh _God_… _what if Dean had told dad?_

His breath hitched at the thought and he restlessly kicked his covers off. His breath sped up a little and he rolled on his stomach, trying to hide his face in his pillow. Was that what Dean and dad had been laughing about? Had they been making fun of him?

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he pressed his face harder in his pillow so they wouldn't escape. He didn't want to cry. Not with Dean right next to him. Dean already thought he was a weak loser anyway. Why else would he trade him for other people?

He wished he was more like Dean. Strong and brave and kind.

Well, not that kind lately. But that must be teenage hormones. And the fact that Sam was a big crybaby loser who didn't deserve Dean to be kind to him. He'd be embarrassed too if he had a little brother like himself.

He could hear his breath shaking and wondered if Dean could hear it too. He hoped Dean couldn't hear it. _Please_, don't let Dean hear it.

Eventually, Sam heard Dean fall asleep. He pushed himself up a little to look at his big brother and sighed again. He wanted to reach out and touch him. Dean would be able to ground him, to keep him from spinning out of control and going crazy. But he couldn't do that. Dean would break his hand if he tried to touch him in his sleep. He'd once almost broken dad's fingers when he had been ill and dad had been trying to feel his forehead for a fever. It had been an accident, of course. Dad had startled him.

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he should pray. Pastor Jim had taught him to pray and had told him stories about God. When he was younger and he was lonely or sad or didn't know what to do and Dean hadn't been there to guide him, he used to press his small hands together and talk to the God high in the clouds. He'd never told Dean and he hadn't done it in a long time. He wondered if God had repudiated him as well. Like Dean had. But Pastor Jim had told him that God would never do that to anyone. He had believed the same thing about Dean once.

He knitted his fingers together and closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. He waited, his mind coming up blank. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do.

_I'm lost._

He opened his eyes again and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were burning again.

_Please help me. _

_I don't know what to do._

_I'm scared._

He was shaking again. He wanted to pull the covers over him again, but didn't want to lose the connection he was making, didn't want to move.

_Dean._

A tear escaped his eye and slowly rolled into his hair. He sniffed.

_I'm scared Dean._

_I need you._

Another tear fell, faster.

_I'm sorry I can't be more like you Dean._

He could feel sobs building up, tried to silence them. If Dean woke up…

_I need help._

_I'm lost._

_Please._

_Please help me._

Dean groaned in his sleep and rolled over. He had to be more silent! Had to finish the moment.

_Please don't stop loving me._

_Please don't hate me._

_Amen._

It wasn't until he unwrapped his fingers and pulled his blankets over him again that he realized that his little prayer hadn't been so much directed to God, but to Dean. It wouldn't hurt if God had heard it too though. Maybe He could help him a little. Maybe He still loved him.

He didn't feel warm and overly loved though. He felt cold and lonely and miserable. His prayers used to make him feel better.

He brushed his tears away and looked at the alarm clock. It was three in the morning. Four more hours and he would have to get out of his bed. Then he would have to go back to school and face the teachers and the students and _Dean_. Dean and his friends who all thought he was just a burden.

_Dean_ thought he was nothing more than a burden.

When had that happened? Had it always been like that? Had he just never noticed before?

Around 5.30 in the morning, Sam gave up. He wouldn't be able to fall asleep anymore, so why bother staying in bed? Lying in bed just made him feel more depressed. He had to _do_ something. Anything. He tiptoed to the bathroom and took a long shower. Only a couple more hours until he had to go back to school.

He almost slipped and fell when he furiously shook his head and his arms flew up in a helpless way. He wanted to scream. Don't think about school. He had to go anyway, so _don't think about it_. Just let it happen.

He ate maybe two spoonfuls of breakfast cereals. He wasn't hungry. Hadn't been for a long time now. A dull headache was throbbing behind his eyes, caused by the lack of sleep. When his father came to wake them, Sam saw the surprise in his eyes when he found Sam at the kitchen table, researching. He cocked his eyebrow and Sam shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled and went back to work. Well, that wasn't a lie, was it?

He could convince himself that he wouldn't have to go to school, until they were in the car. He told himself Dean was driving them to Uncle Bobby, or Pastor Jim. Maybe they were going somewhere case-related. It wasn't until they were halfway between the motel and the school that it hit him with a vengeance. He _was_ going to school. He was going to have to face _everyone_. And he was alone.

His heart was beating loudly and painfully in his chest and he could hear himself staring to pant, unable to slow down his fast breathing. He felt dizzy and everything swam in front of him, pulsating like a heartbeat, growing bigger and faster. Thick saliva pooled in his mouth and his stomach churned.

There was nowhere he could run, nowhere he could hide. He would have to go to school and he would have to sit in class, knowing that everyone – _everyone!_ – had seen the flyers. He bonked his head against the window, without fully realizing he was doing so. His stomach roiled again and his hand flew to his mouth. It wavered halfway, not wanting to alert Dean, and he pressed his knuckles against his chin.

But he wouldn't be able to hide this. He wasn't going to make it to the school and if he didn't ask Dean to pull over, he was going to hurl all over the car. And he didn't want to be the one to tell his father that he had ruined the upholstery. So he had no choice, he had to tell Dean.

"Pull over," he choked out. Dean's head snapped in his direction and he opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it when he saw the state Sam was in. He quickly pulled over and Sam threw the door open, launching himself out of the car and into the fresh air. He retched and spluttered and almost cried. But most importantly, he didn't feel Dean's hand on his back. There were no soothing circles, no kind words. Nothing.

Dean was sitting rigidly in the driver's seat, staring in front of him. He didn't know what to do, didn't know if his brother still wanted him around. Apparently the kid was even keeping secrets that he didn't know about. He had not told his awesome big brother Dean, but all the other children at school knew all the details. I mean, he didn't know a thing, but the others knew enough to spread freaking pamphlets about it. Why would Sam agree to that anyway?

But maybe Sam hadn't agreed to it.

Then still, he was keeping secrets. And no matter how you looked at it, he hadn't told Dean a thing, which meant he didn't trust Dean anymore. Didn't _need_ him anymore. He didn't want to be a pain in his little brother's ass by constantly hovering over him and not letting him grow up. Dad had warned him that if he kept smothering Sam, he'd turn out hating him. His teenage years were important and rebellious. He had to let Sam go his own path.

When Sam climbed back in the car, pale and sweating, leaning heavily against his seat, Dean didn't ask if he was okay. Because obviously, he wasn't. He wondered if he had to drive back and make sure Sam stayed in bed and had a bucket and warm soup nearby. If he was coming down with something and would be reduced to a feverish, shivering mess, Dean would be allowed to mother hen his little brother. Should he ask him if he was good enough to go to school? Maybe he should.

"You good?" it came out snappier than he had intended. He could see Sam swallowing and heard him take in a deep breath.

"Fine," Sam sounded a little hoarse. He cleared his throat. _Okay then_, Dean thought. Sam would tell him if he wasn't fine, wouldn't he? Sure he would.

When Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of their school, he jumped out of the car and away from the awkward silent treatment Sam was giving him. He waved at his friends and smiled, feeling relieved. Sam took too long getting out of the car. What was wrong with the kid anyway?

"Get out, Sam," he sighed. He didn't have time for this. He wanted to go to the Outcasts and feel welcome and loved again. He wanted to wallow in that feeling, making it last forever. Sam did as he was told and walked away from him, eyes cast at the ground under his feet. Dean didn't notice how pale Sam looked. How young and terrified he looked.

Sam was able to lay low until lunch. He hadn't locked himself up in the bathroom for once, needing the fresh air and the thought that he would be able to run away from this school if he really wanted to. It gave him a weird sense of power over the whole situation, the thought that he could leave it all behind, whenever he wanted to.

The teachers had ignored him completely. Those kids from yesterday had been right, Sam realized. The children were worse than ever.

"Hey Lose-Chester!" Gary yelled when he was crossing the grass field towards the pond. Sam froze and he felt his eyes grow comically large. They darted around, looking for a way out. But there was no way out. It seemed like everyone was closing in on him, excited to see what was going to happen next.

"Lose-Chester!" Gary yelled again, closer this time. Sam turned around slowly. If he couldn't flee…

He was almost turned around, when Gary's fat hand connected with his shoulder and pushed him backwards. Sam stumbled and lost his footing, falling to the floor. Not having slept and barely having eating in a few days was taking its toll on his body. He scraped his hands and remained on the floor for a few seconds. Someone cheered, Gary sneered.

"Looooose- Chester," he laughed and kicked Sam in his ribs. What happened next, happened so fast that Sam wouldn't be able to retell it later. He saw red and he heard an animalistic growl, not realizing that it was him who was screaming. He pushed himself up from the ground and threw himself at Gary. The kid's eyes grew big and he stumbled when Sam's fist connected with his nose. He was a trained hunter, he could take bastards like Gary.

Sam was still screaming as he slammed his elbow in Gary's kidneys and his knee into his groin. That was when he felt someone grab him from behind. Sam spun around and threw his fist at the newcomer, but the guy was bigger than him and grabbed his skinny arm, twisting it around his back. He groaned in pain when he twisted it a little too far and fought with all his might, kicking backwards in an attempt to break his attacker's legs. Someone else grabbed his other arm, and he wasn't able to do much other than squirm. They dragged him backwards and he lost his balance. Only their strong arms kept him upright.

He saw Gary coming at him again, having recovered a little from Sam's knee. The look in Gary's eyes was murderous and Sam saw stars when the meaty fist connected with his temple. For a moment, all sound fell away, but then it came back, louder than ever. People were screaming, cheering. Gary was growling. One of the boys who were holding him upright was laughing a deep, booming laugh. Gary hit his ribs, hard, and Sam could hear his breath whoosh out of him. He was gasping and tried doubling over, but that was impossible with the two jocks holding him up. He could handle Gary, but he couldn't handle two guys holding him up and a third pounding in on him. More fists and shoes landed on his body and somewhere during the assault the two let him go and he fell to the floor. More people joined into the kicking fest and Sam curled in on himself. It was to no avail anyway. He wouldn't be able to win this fight. Not without backup. Not if these were just normal, mean kids that he couldn't shoot.

He closed his eyes and let it happen.

Dean had been sitting at the pond with his friends, laughing and talking, when he noticed the commotion. He was halfway getting up, when Amy grabbed his wrist and pulled him down again.

"Let it be," she said.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"They're probably just beating someone up," Paco shrugged and sighed, "Again."

"Shouldn't we… you know… step in or something?" Dean felt the urge to go up there and play hero, save the kid who was the victim.

"It's no use," Alexis said softly, "They beat up kids all the time."

"Where are the teachers when that happens?"

"They don't bother anymore," Daniel looked disapproving.

"They don't bother anymore…" Dean repeated softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Amy said, touching a fading bruise on her arm briefly, "But this is not a very nice community."

"What do you mean?"

"The murders? I'm not surprised that's happening," Amy breathed out slowly, "Kids get _bullied_ here. Like, really, seriously, go-kill-yourself-bullied. If you don't have someone on your side here, you're dead meat. And if you're new or a little weird or just basically not _average_, no one will choose your side. We stick together, because none of us are average, but I guess you noticed _that_ already." She gave him a weak smile.

"This is not a nice town, Dean," Alexis confirmed, "This town will kill you, if you're not careful."

"Like it killed those girls?" Dean asked softly. The others shrugged. They looked at the cheering crowd again. They were slowly departing again, leaving one kid lying on the floor.

"And no one does a thing about it?" he asked again, incredulously. They shook their heads.

"No," Paco said and he touched a small scar Dean hadn't noticed before, "Because if you do, you're next."

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><p><strong>Not the perfect song for the chapter, but I've always liked that song ^^ REM was actually the first band I was a fan of :) The first CD I ever bought with my own money was their Best Of album ^^<strong>

**Okay, quick question... so I have academic English this year and we were seeing rethoric on monday and there was this word 'Hyperbole' and my teacher and I sort of disagree on how to pronounce it ^^ (not that I told her that of course ^^ ) So, I'd say HY-per-bowl (because that sounds a lot like the Dutch pronounciation ^^) and she says hy-PER-bo-lee ... I fear that she's right - because she IS the teacher - but still... I like to think that I'm right... ;) But since there are a few native English speakers among my readers, I wondered if you could help me out :)**

**And I got so many reviews for the last chapter! You guys really are amazing :D **

**See you next sunday :)**

**- Lune x**


	15. Everything to Nothing

Rated for language, again... do I even have to warn you guys about it anymore ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Everything to Nothing<strong>

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><p><em>Yeah I was just saying<br>I'm a man, I'm a lost one you see  
>Come down with me to a place we'll get clean and<br>we'll meet with them eventually  
>You mean everything<br>I don't know much  
>But a crutch is a crutch<br>If it's holding you from moving on  
>I don't know what to do<br>Not anymore, not anymore  
>I don't know what to do<br>Not anymore, not anymore  
>And you, well you mean everything<br>You mean everything to nothing_

_**Manchester Orchestra – Everything to Nothing**_

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><p>After the fight, Sam had pushed himself off the floor and had retreated to the bathrooms once again. He winced when his throbbing ribs spiked pain as he moved. He didn't think he'd broken them though. Probably just badly bruised. He winced again.<p>

When he saw himself in the mirror, he gasped. His left eye was swelling shut and his nose and split lip were bleeding. There was also a nasty bruise, in the shape of the tip of a shoe, growing on his cheekbone. How was he ever going to cover this up? Dean and dad couldn't know! They would think he was weak. And hell, he _was_ weak! He couldn't even win a stupid fight with a stupid kid. How was he ever going to become a great hunter, like his dad and brother? He knew the answer to that one: never. He was a failure.

He limped a little from the kick he'd received to his knee and he was slightly dizzy, but he didn't know if that was the result of the blows he'd gotten to his head, or due to the lack of sleep and food. He didn't really care either. He coughed and spat some blood in the sink. Awesome. He'd bitten his tongue.

But maybe this beating up wasn't all bad. He knew for sure where he was standing now – way below everyone else – and for the rest of the day, most of the kids left him alone. He must have made a very pitiful scene. Only a few people said some nasty things to him, but no one touched him, threw anything at him. And he could live with that. The words hurt and stung, but at least only mentally.

He struggled through the rest of his classes. He was tired and hurting and he just wanted to go home, curl up in his bed and sleep. He didn't want to walk back. He wanted Dean to be waiting for him in the Impala. Wanted him to tease him a little, make him laugh. He wanted them to be brothers again. To be friends again. But he knew Dean wouldn't be waiting for him. So he decided that really, it didn't matter anymore what Dean thought. He hurried to the parking lot when the final bell rang and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the shiny black car. Dean hadn't arrived yet.

When Dean finally did arrive, joking around with his friends, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sam. Sam tried to give him a small smile, but it hurt his busted lip and morphed into a grimace. He frowned.

"Sam," Dean said, sounding surprised and a little angry, "I thought we'd talked about this. I thought you were supposed to _walk_ home."

Sam noticed the stress on the word 'walk', and noticed the way his eyes kept flickering to his friends. He shrugged, feeling hurt. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound suspicious. He just didn't want to walk home. He wasn't entirely sure he would make it.

"Just open the car Dean," he said in a flat tone. He was doing a good job hiding his face behind his bangs. Or maybe Dean just didn't care anymore.

"Sam," Dean hissed, "I promised the Outcasts I would drive them home."

"I'm your brother," Sam said and it sounded childish even in his own ears. Plus, it was a low blow, playing the little brother card.

"They're my _friends_," and Dean didn't even care, didn't notice he needed him. Sam sighed and stared at his shoes, pushing around a small stone. Both brothers were silent for a few seconds, and he could feel Dean staring at him.

"Just…" Dean threw up his hands exasperatedly, "Whatever Sam… just get in the damn car."

Sam nodded and did as he was told. After he'd pulled the door shut, he looked through the window at Dean. His brother looked pissed as he told his friends he couldn't give them a ride home. They glared at him – except for the pretty girl who hadn't blown her hair and Dean himself – and Sam ducked his head, staring at his feet again. It took forever until Dean opened the door and threw himself in the driver's seat.

"Thanks _a lot_, Sam," he sighed, annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but the words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. And then a sudden dread filled him, as if Dean was going to lash out at him and hit him. As if Dean would keep kicking until far after he'd fallen to the ground, moaning, whimpering, begging him to stop. As if Dean would then spit on him and say that he'd had it coming.

Like Gary had done.

Dean turned towards him, surprised at his brother's voice. He hadn't expected the kid to apologize. He'd expected him to bitch about it like the angsty teenager he was. It was then that he noticed the bruises, the way he was trying to disappear and something clicked inside his head. Sam hadn't been the kid they'd beaten up earlier, had he?

_Kids get _bullied_ here. _

_Like, really, seriously, go-kill-yourself-bullied._

He looked at Sammy again, feeling a little scared as Amy's words ran through his head. Had he really been that blind?

_If you don't have someone on your side here, you're dead meat._

"Sam?" he asked, willing his brother to look at him. Sam just kept staring out of the window, "Sam… what happened to your face?"

Sam flinched in a way that screamed '_Busted!_'

"Nothing," he answered, fidgeting nervously.

"Bullshit!" Dean said. Sam flinched again.

"I… just… it's nothing…" Sam fidgeted some more.

"Sam…" Dean said in his most threatening voice.

"I… it happened in Gym, okay…" Sam turned red, Dean noticed, "Dodgeball… I got hit by a ball…"

_Oh_… Dean sighed in relief and snickered, _awkward_. He understood Sam must have hated to admit that to him. It was pretty embarrassing for a hunter to get hit by a _ball_ in gym. If you couldn't even dodge a ball, how were you supposed to survive a hunt?

He was glad it was just that though… If it had been Sammy who'd gotten beaten up… But Sam would have told him if that was the case. Sam did a lot of things, but he would never lie to him. Dean was certain of that.

"You do know you're supposed to dodge, right?" Dean grinned.

"Shut up," Sam grumbled and turned away from his brother to stare out of the window again.

"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's behavior. He'd be so glad when he'd finally get over all his teenage hormones.

When they entered their motelroom, Sam threw his backpack in a corner and limped to his bed. He floppily threw himself down and tried to find a comfortable position. He knew he should make his homework, but he didn't really care anymore. He was so tired and everything hurt. He wondered, if they didn't solve this case, if they'd have to stay in this town for the rest of his life. That would be quite ironic. The one town he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in…

"Sam?" John asked worriedly when he saw his son's face, "What happened?"

"He didn't dodge," Dean said with a smirk. John lifted his eyebrows in confusion.

"Dodgeball, dad," Dean said slowly, like talking to a toddler, "Sam didn't dodge."

"Oh…" John looked at his youngest, "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm fine," Sam answered quickly. John looked at his other son, who shrugged.

"Okay then," John walked to the table, "I was finally able to reconstruct the text written on Kathrine. You said she was the head of the school paper, right?"

Dean nodded and looked over his father's shoulder to the text he'd scribbled down. He frowned at the scratches his father called his handwriting.

"It's an article," John said, sitting down, "A newspaper article, one Kathrine wrote."

"So… our killer copied one of Kathrine's articles on her body after he killed her?" Dean asked.

"Yes," John confirmed, "The article was supposed to be published in the next paper, though."

"So… eh…" Dean bit his lip, thinking hard, "You think that the killer works for the paper?"

"It's possible," John nodded.

"Amy works for the paper, I can ask her for a list of employees tonight."

"Tonight?" John repeated.

"Oh… right…" he gave his father his most innocent sweet-boy expression, "Is it okay if I go out with the Outcasts tonight?"

It was silent for a moment, while John studied his son and Sam rolled over in his bed with a small groan. They didn't hear that.

"As long as you ask Amber about the list," John agreed.

"_Amy_," Dean corrected him, "And I will. Thanks."

A couple of hours later, after they'd eaten and Sam had finally started on his homework, Dean was ready to leave when John called him apart.

"Dean," he said softly, so they wouldn't disturb Sam, "You're looking out for Sammy, right?"

"Of course!" Dean was offended that his father could think otherwise.

"Okay," John smiled softly, "Have fun."

"Thanks."

When Dean made it to their meeting point, his friends were already waiting for him. He grinned from ear to ear as he jumped out of the car and almost ran to them. Alexis was drinking again, and for a moment he wondered if she had an alcohol problem. Then, they smiled and waved at him and he didn't care anymore. He was home.

"Want a beer?" Paco asked as he offered him a bottle. Dean nodded his thanks and took a long swig.

"Ames?" he asked, "could you get me a list of people who work for the school paper?" he asked.

"Sure," she nodded with a smile. He gasped when the moonlight fell on her face and he could see her clearly. Like Sam, she had a black eye and a busted lip.

"Geez, Amy…" he whistled, "What happened?"

"Oh…" she touched her face lightly and glanced at Daniel, "It's nothing. I fell with my bike. Clumsy."

"You look like your parents beat the living shit out of you…" Dean laughed, shaking his head in amusement at the girl's clumsiness. Amy and the others stared at him wide-eyed.

"Eh…" she said and swallowed.

"What?" Dean asked with a grin, taking another swig, and suddenly it hit him. Hard and fast. He could feel himself pale and almost dropped his beer. Everything fell into place: all the times Amy had been 'clumsy', all the black eyes and bruises and scrapes.

"You're kidding me…" his voice shot up a little at the end. He cleared his throat, "Amy… you're parents hit you?"

"It's no big deal," she said quickly.

"Amy," he hissed, "Amy, this _is_ a big deal."

"It was an accident," she cried, "He didn't mean to…"

"Yeah he did," Alexis whispered softly, rubbing her hand over her friend's arm, "He means it every time, Ames…"

"No!" she yelled, "It was a mistake… he won't do it again."

"Just like last time?" Daniel asked softly.

"Leave me alone!" Amy pulled herself free from Alexis' grip, glaring at her friends.

"Amy," Paco said, "We're on your side. You _know_ we're on your side."

"I think you should tell someone Amy," Dean said.

"Tell someone!" she laughed hysterically. When she calmed down again, she looked at him sadly, "You don't understand, Dean… he's my _father_. I _love_ him. He loves me… Life's just hard on him."

Dean didn't know what to say. His friends were fucked up, but they were still his friends. They needed each other. They needed him. And he wanted to be there for them. He wanted to hold Amy and tell her everything would be alright. He wanted to protect her when her father was about to hit her until she couldn't move anymore. He wanted to stand next to Alexis when her parents gave her hell about what she looked like, about the choices she made. He wanted to be there for Daniel when he missed his dead sister. He wondered what Paco's sad story was. But he knew one thing: they were all screwed. Even him, with his mother who was killed by a freaking _demon_ and his father who dragged him into life threatening hunts. They were all so far from normal.

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

"I don't need your pity," Amy answered.

"I know," Dean said, "But I do care about you."

"I know," she mumbled. She kicked a small stone, "Can we just forget about it now?" she asked loudly and desperately, "I just want to have a good time."

"Sure, sweetie," Daniel threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed, "Let's get drunk and do stupid things."

Alexis laughed, Paco snickered. Amy rolled her eyes and gave him a weak push. Dean didn't know what to do, but decided to play along.

A couple of hours later, that was exactly what they'd done: get drunk and do stupid things. Daniel and Alexis were all over each other again. Amy was being loud and giggly, tripping over her feet and telling riddles and short poems to Paco, who wanted to discuss politics. Dean hadn't had so many drinks. He could still think clear and he felt awkwardly out of place. But he loved them. And they loved him.

He startled when he heard a loud screeching noise of metal on metal and Amy's hysterical laugh. He turned around, but didn't understand what was happening. They were walking along cars and the screeching sound just kept coming. It was then that he realized that they both had a key in their hands, and that they were making long, deep scratches in the cars.

He felt sick.

"Guys," he said and they looked up at him, "Why would you… I mean… I don't think you should do that…"

"Don't be a killjoy," Amy snapped and she went back to her business. Paco shrugged and followed her example.

He suddenly didn't like drunk-Amy anymore. At first he'd liked it when she opened up and got all giggly and a bit naughty on them. But this was getting a bit out of hand. Cars were expensive and the thought of them doing that to the paint of his beloved Impala almost brought him to his knees.

They were so fucked up indeed.

But he loved them. He loved them so much, and he needed them. He'd never had any friends; they were the first people in a long time who really liked him for who he was. He knew he was really absorbed with them, but he had so many years of catching up to do. For the first time in what felt like forever, people cared about him, people loved him. People wanted to be his friend.

And no matter how weird and scary they were being right now, no matter how much a small voice in his head was screaming that this was all wrong, he needed them. He felt like he would get lost if they left him again.

Tomorrow they'd be sober, and everything would be alright again.

Only, the next morning, things weren't alright. Because when his father woke him up, way too early in the morning, he had bad news. Again.

"Don't tell me," Dean groaned when John shook him awake.

"Her name was Ann Fortney," John answered. Sam stared.

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><p><strong>Oh my, we're almost at 100 reviews! Who's gonna be the 100th reviewer? You can't believe how awesome this all is to me! I've never had this many reviews before in my life! Haha, you guys get me all excited ^^<strong>

**There was so much to be said in this chapter, and I feel like it just wouldn't come sometimes.. I should learn to spread more, instead of trying to write everything on one sunday afternoon ^^ **

**And okay, I get it... I was wrong, my teacher was right ;) I still like my version better though :p Thanks for helping me out you lot ^^  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	16. Girls and Boys in School

**Chapter 16: Girls and Boys in School**

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><p><em>I don't want you fading<br>Acting like you hate me  
>It's just like all your paper cuts<br>That cut you in the coldest spots_

_Fuck all the rest  
>And forget the rules<br>Like all the girls and boys in my school_

_I said to this end "don't hurt your best friend"_

_**Neon Trees – Girls and Boys in School**_

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><p>"Ann Fortney…" Sam repeated slowly, "There's a Judith Fortney in my Latin class," he didn't mention that she was friends with Mia, "I wonder if they're sisters."<p>

"That's… not rally the point right now, Sam," Dean said and Sam shut up immediately. His eyes grew a bit bigger and he pulled his sheets higher. He looked away.

"So, what was she?" Dean asked his father, sitting up completely, "Cheerleader? Writer for the school paper?"

"She was on the swimming team," John answered and gave a commando n the laptop, "When I went through the school papers in search for that article that was written on Kathrine, I noticed that there was an article on her. Apparently, she led the swimming team to victory a few weeks back."

"Uggh," Dean groaned, annoyed, "Why did he suddenly switch his MO? It doesn't make any sense anymore…" a thought formed in his head and a slight look of amusement flickered in his eyes, "So… what did he do? Give her a mermaid's tail?"

John stared back blankly, "How did you know?"

Dean's mouth fell open and he raised his eyebrows, mumbling: "I feel like a damn psychic… I should really learn to keep my mouth shut…"

John turned the laptop so Dean could have a look. Sam leaned over the beds so he could look as well. His head looked like it was resting on Dean's shoulder, though it wasn't really.

"Stop touching me, dude," Dean grumbled, annoyed and he shoved Sam a little to create some place between them. Sam scrambled away from him and tried to look n the screen without disturbing his brother.

The picture on the screen showed a fairly young looking girl with short red-brown hair. Her eyes were closed – if she had any eyes left after the freaking melting process, that was – and the trademark bruises colored her neck. There were bruises on her chest as well, partly covered by her bathing suit. There were scratches on her knuckled and wrists and it looked like she'd put up one hell of a fight. The bruises on her chest were from the killer's knees, Dean assumed, as he'd sat on her chest to restrain her.

Dean's eyes trailed down her fragile body. She was the youngest victim so far – only 15, he would later learn. The killer had indeed tried to imitate a mermaid's tail: Ann's legs were messily stitched together and the killer had made a big deal out of painting scales on her legs. Like with the background painting when Esmeralda was killed, there was great detail in the painting. If Dean wasn't so grossed out, he would have been impressed.

"He did quite a job on her," he mumbled.

"I feel it's safe to assume our murderer is a 'she', not a 'he'," John said, "Or he has at least a female accomplice."

Dean and Sam stared at their father in confusion.

"The handwriting on Kathrine is still being analyzed, but I believe it's a girl's," John explained.

"Oh," Dean mumbled, and he went back to staring at the pictures. There was something they were missing, something big. The key to the whole mystery.

"Do they know how the insides were melted yet?" Sam asked softly.

"They can't find any chemicals that could have caused this kind of reaction," John frowned, "And we didn't find enough evidence to speak of angry spirits or a poltergeist. I think it's either some pretty advanced witchcraft, or a demon possession. But we didn't smell any sulfur, so I believe we're dealing with a witch."

"But we didn't find any hex bags?" Dean said.

"Not all witches need hex bags," John answered, "If they're strong enough, they can channel their powers without the use of a hex bag or cursed coin or something like that."

"So… check out the school for witches," Dean sighed. If there were any wiccans or something obvious like that at their school, the Outcasts would be able to identify them. Speaking of his friends… "You do still need the list Amy's composing, right?"

"Of students working for the paper?" John nodded, "Yes."

"Okay, I'll ask her about it," Dean said._ If she's sober and normal again, that is_, he thought in a bitter afterthought.

On his way to school, Dean noticed how pale and tired Sam looked. It was as if he hadn't slept in days and he was fidgeting in his seat, as if he was nervous about something. Dean wondered if he had a big test coming up. But he had noticed Sam hadn't been studying very hard the previous night, and it just wasn't like Sam to slack before a big test. So it had to be something else.

Maybe his kid brother had fallen in love.

It was weird to think of Sam as someone's _boyfriend_, kissing and doing other things that he didn't want to think about. Sam was his little brother. He wasn't supposed to sneak into the janitor's closet to lock lips with some girl. He was supposed to be the innocent kid who didn't know a thing about girls or kissing.

He sighed when he got out of the car and stretched, staring at the school building. What had happened to them? They were alienating and he felt like Sam was slipping from between his fingers. And he felt vaguely guilty, as if there was something big he was supposed to see. But he didn't see it. And therefore he felt like it was _his_ fault he was losing Sam.

"Bye Sam," he said when Sam walked away from him, without saying anything. Sam froze and stopped. He just stood there for a second or two, before he turned around with a weird look in his eyes and studied Dean for a moment. Then the weird look left and he looked even more tired than he did before. Dean gave him a weak smile.

"Bye," he mumbled and left. Dean brought his hand to his mouth and rubbed.

"Hey," a soft voice came from behind him. When he turned around, Amy was looking at him with a shy smile. She looked pale and tired as well and her eyes were bloodshot. She had a hangover, Dean guessed.

"Hey," he repeated, wondering where the rest was, "You okay?"

"Yeah," her voice was a bit raspy, "Sure. I… eh… I have your list."

Dean looked at the piece of paper she retrieved from her bag, "I'm sorry I was so…" she shrugged, threw her hands up in the air, "… weird?... drunk?... last night…"

She gave him an apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to freak you out. And really, I'm usually not like that."

"I know," Dean answered, "You had a rough night, I understand."

"I'm sorry," she said again. He shook his head and bumped her lightly on the shoulder in a friendly move to show her that all was forgiven. She winced a little and he felt like an ass for hitting her. But she smiled and he felt like he was forgiven.

"Where's the rest?" Dean asked, and he felt like he asked that same question every morning. Was that normal? He wasn't used to having friends.

"Alexis is skipping first period," she informed him and frowned against the sun, "She had a lot more to drink than I had. I actually don't know where Paco and Daniel are, but I'm sure they'll be here soon. Let's go inside. I'm cold and it's not like we have psychology with them."

Dean nodded and followed the small girl inside. People ignored them, he noticed. He wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. He usually had at least a lot of female attention. But now that he had friends, he didn't feel the need to hook up with a bunch of pretty girls to shag in empty classrooms. They were nothing, after all. Just some empty shells with good looks and a great body.

He sat next to Amy during psychology and he studied the other students. Most of them looked normal. Average. Amy's look screamed alternative, but not so much as Alexis'. He guessed he himself looked like some slob, but he didn't have much money and he found food more important than clothes. There were few real snobs. They didn't talk to the rest of the class, only to their posh friends with expensive clothes and bags and shiny shoes. They had two cheerleaders – in outfit – who were whispering to each other, but didn't have the biggest brains. They lived the cliché.

When a question was asked by their teacher, it were always the same people who raised their hands, he noticed. There were the two nerds on the front row, with Star Wars T-shirts and thick glasses – Jamie and Oliver – one of the preppy girls – Molly – one of the girls without any friends – Heather – and two boys, one of whom had friends – Tom – and one who had not – Marc. The rest of their class zoned out or doodled in the margins.

During the break, Amy and he found the three other members of their little group of friends. They all looked tired and were more silent than normally. He wondered how he could best ask about the witch they were looking for. He didn't want to sound suspicious, but then again, he really did need to find who their murderer was.

"So…" he asked, absentmindedly scratching his hand, "Are there any… you know… 'witches' in this school?"

He made quotation marks in the air to show them that he didn't think witches _really_ existed. The others looked at him strangely.

"Why do you ask?" Daniel asked, frowning and studying Dean for a long time. Their scrutinizing looks made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh," he shrugged, gave them a lopsided grin, "Just curious."

"Well… we have this one girl who claims to be a Wiccan?" Alexis frowned. She obviously didn't think much of that girl, "What's her name? Help me out…"

"I know who you mean," Amy nodded, snapping her fingers, "Shit, what's her name… She dyed her hair black last year, she's a natural brunette though. Tall girl, quite skinny. Not extremely pretty, doesn't have many friends… Uggh!" Amy punched the ground, "What. Is. Her. Name?"

"Harris," Paco said helpfully, "Zoey Harris."

"Zoey!" Amy and Alexis exclaimed in unison, "Of course…"

"I don't think you have class with her, but you'll recognize her when you see her," Daniel said with pursed lips, "She gives alternative people a bad name."

Dean nodded. He considered asking his friends to really point her out, but that might be too suspicious. He needed to talk to her though, sooner better than later, so he got up and told his friends he'd see them later. He gave them a weak excuse about checking on Sam, and left. He wandered through the school, looking at the students. There were quite a few black haired girls, but none of the girls stood out like Daniel had said.

When Dean finally spotted her, he knew Daniel had been right. Everything about her screamed _witch_. She was going through her locker and he could just imagine it being filled with salamander's eyes and spell books. Witches freaked him out. They were creepy evil freaks of bitches and if it was up to him, he'd let them all die at the stake, like in the good old days.

"Harris," he hissed at the girl and she dropped her book as he startled her. _Advanced chemistry_, nothing witchy there. She stared at him with wide brown eyes as if she was surprised someone was actually talking to her. He glanced in her locker, but didn't see anything freaky at first sight. There was a heart shaped picture of a black cat with the name '_Velma' _written on it in red marker. Like the character from Scooby-Doo, Dean thought.

"I… eh… what… I m-mean, what do you w-want from m-me?" she sounded confused and nervous and Dean noticed she stuttered slightly. She finally picked her book off the floor and put it back, her eyes never leaving Dean. He felt like she was bewitching him silently.

"We need to talk," Dean said grimly.

"N-now?" she glanced over his shoulder at the other students to see if they formed at threat to her. She closed her locker and looked around nervously, "Can't we… I mean… L-later?"

She was so nervous and she'd gone pale. Dean gave her a cold smile, "Yes, now."

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her along to a more quiet area. The art corridor was being avoided by most students now that so many girls had been killed in the art classroom, so Dean took her there. She looked like she was going to scream.

"W-w-what are… are you going to d-d-d-do with m-me?" she stuttered, more heavily now. She shrieked when he slammed her against a wall and leaned heavily against her, pressing her down so she couldn't get away from him.

"I know what you did," he hissed angrily. Her eyes were filling with tears and she was making breathless yelping sounds.

"I-I-I d-don't understand!" she cried and the first tears spilt over her cheeks.

"I know what you are," he pressed, "You're a _witch_."

"I-I-I," she just stuttered and more tears fell, while she stared at him with a terrified look in her eyes, "I haven't d-d-done anything w-wrong!"

"You tell that to Ann, and Kathrine, and Esmeralda, and Chrissy and Tatiana," he put more pressure against her and pushed her harder into the wall. She was full on sobbing now and barely making any sense anymore since her stuttering had gotten so bad.

"A-a-a-are you g-g-g-going to… to… to…" she gasped for breath, shook her head and closed her eyes, "K-k-k-k-k…" she cried even harder, if that was even possible, "k-k-kill me? Like you k-k-k…" saying 'kill' seemed to be extremely hard for her, "k-k-killed them?"

"What?" Dean was surprised by her question, "You're the one who killed them you evil bitch."

"W-w-w-what?" she seemed to calm down a little, although she still seemed terrified of him, "I… _what_? No! I didn't do a-a-anything!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, Dean confused and Zoey scared.

"P-please, don't h-hurt me," she whispered, her lip quivering and her face covered in tears and traces of black mascara, "I p-promise I won't t-tell."

"Tell?" Dean asked, confused, "Whoa, hold on. I'm not the bad guy here! _You_ are the witch."

"Y-y-you're not going to k-k-kill me?" she asked, confused and relieved, "L-like Ann and Kathrine?"

"What? No!" he let go of her, stepping back a step to show her that he was _not_ the bad guy in this situation, "I'm trying to find out who killed them… I thought you…" he shrugged, "You know… I thought you had something to do with it…"

"M-me?" she ran her hand over her face to dry her tears a little, "W-why? B-because I'm a w-_witch_?"

"Well…" Dean shrugged, "Yeah."

"But I haven't done anything w-wrong," she still didn't look to comfortable around him, but that could have had something to do with the fact that he'd just slammed her into a freaking wall to force a confession out of her, "I b-brew p-potions," she shrugged, "S-so I don't have to g-go to the pharmacist w-when I'm i-i-ill," she laughed weakly, "a-and s-sometimes I d-do a l-little spell to keep my l-loved ones save."

"So… what…" Dean bit his lip, "Only white magic, or what?"

She nodded feverishly, "Y-yes! Only w-white magic. I-I'm n-not a bad person… eh…"

"Dean," he said softly, feeling a little embarrassed over how he'd acted towards her.

"Dean," she repeated, and she didn't stutter when she said his name, "I'm Z-Zoey."

"I know," he blushed a little. He'd drawn conclusions too quickly. If his father heard this, he was going to be mad. Or at least a little disappointed, "I'm sorry, Zoey."

"I-it's okay," she gave him a small smile, "C-can I g-go now?"

"Oh… yeah… sure," he gave her a small smile back, "Could you… eh… if you'd see something you know… suspicious… could you… you know… tell me?"

"So you can h-harass some o-other g-girl?" she asked, but she nodded, "o-okay. G-good luck, Dean."

And she ran away from him, leaving him behind in the empty hallway, next to the class where all those innocent girls had been murdered. There had to be another witch in their school. Maybe she was from another year than theirs. That was possible, wasn't it? After all, the murdered girls hadn't all been seniors.

He banged his fist against the wall in frustration and winced when the wall didn't bulge.

Why couldn't this be a simple case for once?

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><p><strong>We've passed the 100 reviews cape guys! So many cookies and love for you ^^<strong>

**I actually really like this chapter :) I have this big plan in my notebook with what's supposed to happen in each chapter and this chapter wasn't even in it! But it has come out pretty good, I think :) **

**Btw, I see a lot of people complaining about the new SPN season, but I actually really like it. I think the last two episodes were really good. Especially 'Defending your life' was great :) Sure, I miss Cas, but I'm loving the new season! _Nah_ ;)**

**Lots of love!**

**- Lune x  
><strong>


	17. Pale Black Eye

**Chapter 17: Pale Black Eye**

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><p><em>Goddamn I'm tired of lying<br>I wish I loved you like I used to  
>So hold on, you pale black eye<br>Cause when I sleep, I sleep alone_

_**Manchester Orchestra – Pale Black Eye**_

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><p>"Did you find Zoey?" Alexis asked when Dean met up with his friends again.<p>

"Sam," he said absentmindedly, remembering the weak lie he'd told them earlier, "I went to find Sam."

"Sure," Paco and Alexis exchanged glances, "Did you find your brother?"

"No," he shook his head to clear his mind, "You offered to be friends with me, because I'm… _different_… right?"

"I guess," Daniel answered cautiously.

"Why aren't you friends with Zoey then? She's different too, right?" a lot more different than him even.

"Pff," Daniel said, "She's not really a people person… wouldn't talk to anyone, just wanted to be left alone."

"Maybe she's just shy?" Dean wondered. Sam had once told him that people with a stutter were often shy.

"What's with the sudden interest in Zoey?" Alexis asked, cocking her eyebrow, "Why don't you ask her out if you like her so much?"

"What?" Dean laughed and shook his head, "It's nothing like that and you know it. I was just curious. She seemed like she could fit right in with the Outcasts."

"His friends exchanged glances again and Amy was frowning.

"Do you think of us as freaks, Dean?" she asked softly.

"_No_! No," he shook his head feverishly, "That's ridiculous. You're my _best_ friends… you're my _only_ friends…"

And he was desperate to keep them that way. Like he'd said before, admitting to himself over and over again that he _needed_ them. Without them, he'd be lost in the cold and cruel world of hunting and killing. Of looking after Sam, who didn't want to be looked after anymore and patching up his dad, who was awesome, unless he started drinking again. They were so far from normal that sometimes, it really hurt. But here, with Amy and Daniel and Alexis and Paco, he felt at home. he felt _normal_. And when he lay in bed at night and thought about moving to their next hunt and having to leave them behind, and ice cold hand closed around his heart and he felt lost.

But he knew that this wasn't permanent. One day, he'd have to let them go again. And he knew that that moment would come sooner rather than later and it filled him with dread. Dread of having to go back to a lonely life of hunting and fighting.

So he held them close with all of his might for as long as he could, because he knew that he'd never get friends like the Outcasts ever again.

"Dean?" Amy's soft voice interrupted his train, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he looked up at her, at her brown curls and her soft, brown eyes and he smiled sadly. He'd miss them so much, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"We're going out tonight," Daniel said, clearing the tension that was starting to build.

"I'm in," Amy and Alexis said in unison. They looked at each other and grinned. Paco nodded to indicate that he was coming as well.

"Dean?" Daniel asked. When they'd leave this place, there'd be no more going out with friends either. There'd simply be no more friends.

"I can't," Dean said. He wished he could, there was only so much time he'd be able to spend with them, and he didn't want to waste any, but he'd gone out with them yesterday, and his father wouldn't appreciate it if he went out two nights in a row. Especially not while they were working on a case.

"Really?" Daniel sounded a little surprised, "That's too bad… It's just the four of us then, I guess. Just like old times."

He winked and the others laughed. Dean smiled, but Dan's words kind of hurt. He didn't think they noticed though and when the bell rang, they got up and re-entered the building for the rest of their classes.

Sam had stood in front of the school building for a long time that morning. He'd considered not going in at all and just hiding somewhere on the school grounds, or in the village. But if he didn't show up, they'd surely call his dad. He'd missed too many classes already by hiding in the bathroom like a big loser, he couldn't afford to miss more.

So he took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his pockets to hide how bad they were shaking and entered the building. His eyes darted from student to student as he quickly made his way through the hallways.

There was a loud bang to his right as a door opened and he jumped with a gasp, before cringing. He stared at the man in the door with wide eyes and the old teacher stared right back at him, cocking an eyebrow. His heart was beating loud and fast and he noticed that his body was preparing to take off.

"Winchester?" the teacher asked tentatively.

"I… I'm sorry," he blurted out and he ran to his locker. He placed a hand over his chest and rested his head against the cold metal.

"Hey!" someone yelled. His eyes flew open and he tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping he wouldn't draw any more attention to him. His breathing accelerated again and he was feeling lightheaded. He should really eat more, but he just couldn't get any food down his throat. It was like there was a big lump stuck there that wouldn't let anything other than water pass.

"Hey!" the same person yelled, closer this time. _Please leave me alone_, _please leave me alone, _please_ leave me alone._

"_Hey!_" a third time. Sam couldn't breathe, feared he would pass out right there, "Hey Eileen, why are you ignoring me?"

_Eileen_? Sam turned around slowly, getting his breathing back under control. A big jock from about Dean's age grabbed a petite blonde's arm, turning her towards him.

"Leave me _alone_, Rob!" she shrieked, trying to shrug him off.

"Eileen, _please_," he begged, "Let me explain."

"_Explain?_" she sounded hysterical and on the verge of tears, "I don't need you to 'explain' anything to me, Rob. You _slept_ with her! You cheated on me with my best friend! It's _over_! You and I are _done_!"

She burst into tears and was able to pull herself free from the jock's grip, who was staring at her, flabbergasted as she walked away from her.

"No, nonononono," he muttered, "Eileen! Eileen, stop! At least talk to me! I didn't mean to!"

"But you did!" she screamed, stopping and turning back to him, "But you did…"

"I'm sorry!" he yelled as she ran away from him, "Eileen! I'm sorry!"

He ran after her as he realized that she couldn't hear him anymore and Sam felt like an idiot. He'd panicked over someone else's boyfriend drama, just because there'd been someone yelling. He drew in another shaky breath and hoped his knees would stop trembling.

He couldn't concentrate in class. Every time someone moved or turned around to whisper something to their friends, he tensed and stared at them, frightened they would come after him. He only realized he did that after the third time, but even though, from then on, he knew he was acting like a complete fool, he couldn't stop it.

It was exhausting.

When school was finally over, he was about ready to just crawl in his bed and sleep for a week. He was hungry – though at the same time he was not – and a little dizzy and everything still hurt. He felt like an old man and he longed for Dean. But he knew Dean would have left with his friends already.

His '_friends'_… gah!

He knew deep down that it was unfair to be jealous of his brother or his friends, but he couldn't help but wish that _he_ was the one with friends in this town, or at least that his brother still considered him his best friend. What happened to the promise that nothing would come in between them?

He froze and lashed out when someone grabbed his arm.

"Easy, Whine-Chester," Gary hissed in his ear. Sam wanted to scream, but he couldn't find his voice and Gary clamped his sweaty hand over his mouth, making him gag slightly. He shook his head, trying to get Gary to let him go. But Gary was heavier and he had friends. The bastard who'd photoshopped those flyers hit him in the stomach and he doubled over in pain. If he'd eaten anything that day he'd have thrown up all over Gary's dirty hand.

He almost wished he'd eaten something.

"One sound, Whine-Chester," Gary hissed in his ear, "One word and I'll break your fucking neck."

Sam widened his eyes in horror and struggled harder. He managed to elbow Gary and the boy grunted in pain, loosening his grip on Sam. He managed to pull himself free and he ran away from them.

"Get him!" Gary screeched angrily. He thought he was faster than them – he should be faster than them, he was a trained hunter! – but something heavy slammed against his back and he tripped, landing on his knees and hands. He coughed painfully and Gary kicked him in the ribs, sending him flying.

"No," he whimpered, trying to shield his body with his arms, "Please…"

Gary sat down on top of the smaller boy, pinning him to the ground. Three of his big, muscular friends sat down on his arms and legs to keep them from moving.

"What are you-" he started, but a fist in his face effectively shut him up.

"I thought I told you to keep your freaking mouth shut?" Gary sneered. Sam whimpered again and he hated himself for it.

"Shut. Up. Whine-Chester," Gary placed his knee on Sam's crotch and pressed hard and painfully, making Sam gasp in pain.

"SHUT UP!" Gary slammed his knee up and Sam screamed. He saw stars and he didn't know if he was going to spew or faint. His breathing sounded labored in his own ears and everything was spinning around him.

His head rolled away from Gary's angry stare and he closed his eyes in an attempt to keep the dizzying spinning under control. Cold fingers closed around his neck and forced his head back.

"Look at me," Gary snarled, squeezing harder, choking the smaller boy, "If you tell anyone… Look at me! … I swear to God, if you tell anyone, I'll kill you. I'll rip you to little pieces, just like they killed those girls. 'cause that's all you are: a stinky, bitchy, slutty little girl."

He let go of Sam's neck and Sam gasped for precious, precious air.

"Please," he moaned, but he was shut up by another fist in his face. Blood poured down his nose and over his face, choking him a little.

"We don't _want_ you here," Gary hissed, "You and your freak brother. You are the cause of all this evil. We need to purify this town, purify it from the outsiders. You freaks ruin our community."

It didn't make any sense, but Sam forgot why. He was shaking and he suspected the wetness on his face was more than just his bleeding nose. He couldn't tell up from down anymore and his body was on fire.

Gary kept talking to him, but he lost track of his words. It took him a while to realize that the pressure on his body had disappeared and the other kids had let go of him again. He pushed himself to his feet and spat blood on the ground. Gary came out of nowhere and pushed him backwards, causing him to stumble and almost fall back down.

"Fight back, loser," Gary said, "Fight back!"

Sam swung his fist at him, but missed and when Gary's counterattack connected with his temple, everything went sickly white for a fraction of a second. Then, he felt like he was falling, before everything went black and he didn't feel anything anymore.

- SPN -

Sam woke up to a weird tapping on his face. He scrunched his nose, but that only resulted in pain, and not in whoever was tapping his face to stop doing so. He wanted to tell them to leave him alone, but he couldn't find his voice. For a moment, he didn't remember what had happened and why on earth someone would be tapping his face.

He slowly opened his eyes and he stared up at the dark grey sky. He couldn't see anyone, and yet the tapping continued. It took him another moment to realize that he was freezing cold and wet, and that the tapping was the rain on his face. He blinked when a big drop of water landed in his eye and blurred everything.

With a jolt, he remembered what had happened. He pushed himself up on shaking arms and fell back when everything spun around him. He lay there, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down to normal again and his vision to clear. Then he tried again.

On the third attempt, he was able to push himself up. He realized he must look like hell, but the blood from his nose had dried and it was no use trying to wipe it away. He stumbled away and slowly made his way home, tripping every now and then and having to rest on two benches because his legs just wouldn't stop trembling.

When he finally knocked on the motel door, it was almost completely dark. His father was going to be so mad.

"Sam!" someone yelled angrily as the door opened. Sam wasn't sure if it was Dean or his dad, but he didn't want to deal with either, so he pushed his way in and tried to disappear into the bathroom, "Sam! Do you know what time it is? Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"School," Sam mumbled vaguely. He was almost at the bathroom. He could almost touch the door if he'd stretch his arm.

"Sam Winchester!" definitely his dad. His father grabbed his arm and spun him around, "Look at me when I talk to you! I-"

The older man broke off and stared at his youngest, "Sam, what _happened_?"

"Nothing," he mumbled.

_I swear to God, if you tell anyone, I'll kill you. _

His heartbeat was speeding up again, and so was his breathing. He felt like Gary's hand was smothering him again.

"_Sam_…" his father warned him.

"Nothing!" Sam yelled. He could hear himself breathing, but the longer the more he felt like he just couldn't breathe, "Leave me alone!"

_I'll rip you to little pieces_.

He pulled himself free from his father's grasp and stumbled to the bathroom door. He clutched the wall to keep himself upright as a wave of dizziness rolled over him.

"Sam, calm down," Dean said somewhere on his right. It was as if electricity coursed through his body as Dean touched him and he pulled away from him with a yelp.

"Sam please," Dean sounded a little panicked, Sam noticed, "You need to calm down or you're going to make yourself sick."

His vision was a little fuzzy around the edges and it felt as though he was hearing from under water. His vision tilted and he slid down a little against the wall. He vaguely realized he was going to pass out again and knew that that wasn't a good sign.

"Sam!" his father filled his vision as he grabbed both of his son's arms to keep him upright, "Dean, grab a paper bag. Come on, Sammy, sit down. You need to calm down, son. It's okay, there's no need to panic. Try to take deep breaths."

John guided his son to the nearest bed and placed the paper bag over Sam's mouth and nose. Dean was looking about as pale as Sam and John ordered him to sit down and calm down, before he had two sons with a panic attack.

"Stop struggling, Sam," he said softly but sternly, "You'll feel better in a moment, just try and focus on taking deep breaths. Three counts in, five counts out, nice and easy. That's it… you're doing great kid. Deep breaths."

Sam slumped against his father, trembling and slick with sweat. When John thought he'd calmed down enough, he tossed the paper bag aside and held his youngest in his arms. How could he have let it come so far? He was supposed to protect them and now he didn't even know what had gotten to Sammy.

"Sam, I need you to tell me what happened," John said. He could feel Sam's heartbeat pick up again as the trembling kid tensed.

"I'm not mad Sammy," he whispered, "Just tell me what happened, okay?"

"I… nothing, I… I fell," Sam's eyes were darting around the room, looking for a way out.

"Nonsense!" John said a little too loud and Sam shied away from him.

"Sammy…" Dean placed his finger on his little brother's hand, "Did someone beat you up?"

Sam's eyes swam with fear and he shook his head quickly, "No… no… I just… I got in a fight… It's my own fault… I started it… I… I'm sorry daddy!"

"You started a fight?" John asked with lifted eyebrows.

"Y-yes," Sam nodded and stared at the floor in shame and fear, "I'm sorry."

"Go get cleaned up," John said. Sam nodded and stumbled to the bathroom. There, he slumped to the floor with his back against the door and let his tears fall freely.

_I'll kill you. _

_I'll rip you to little pieces._

But he hadn't told anyone. Not really at least. Gary wouldn't kill him, he hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't gone against his crazy rules.

He hadn't told anyone. And he wouldn't either.

He could hear his brother and father in the other room. Their voices grew louder and angrier and he realized they were fighting. About him.

"… thought I told you to look after your brother?"

"I did! I've been looking out for him!"

_No you haven't. _

"Then how could you miss this?"

_Because he left me alone._

"I don't know! I swear dad, I've been looking out for him. I always look out for him!"

_Liar. You don't love me anymore._

His head was pounding.

"I'm disappointed in you, Dean."

_Me too. Poor Dean though._

_I love you, you know?_

"I'm sorry, dad…"

_Me too, daddy… I wish I was strong like you and Dean._

"I know," a moment of silence in which Sam guessed his father sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, "It's just…"

"I know… I'll do better."

And then their voices were too soft to hear through the door. Sam pushed himself up from the floor and threw some water in his face. He should have washed the blood away before he came home. Maybe then they wouldn't have made such a big drama out of it. Maybe then they would just leave him alone. They couldn't clean up this mess. He was in too deep already. He wished they'd just move and start over.

But even if he'd have washed away the blood, he'd still haven't been able to hide the evidence. His face was a mess. There was only so much that could have been explained by dodge ball. And he knew his dad hadn't really bought that excuse either. His dad just didn't want to push, because he didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it made it real. If they could all pretend that it wasn't there, then maybe the problem would solve itself.

As long as they wouldn't have to _talk_ about it. Because talking about it was for pussies. Not for men.

Sam giggled softly.

God, he was really losing it.

* * *

><p><strong>I haven't been home all weekend and I wrote most of this chapter on the train. I haven't reread it, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes in it.<strong>

**I'm really tired and in a fairly bad mood and I know I still have to answer all your amazing and lovely reviews, but I'll do that tomorrow, okay? Know that I love you all and every word of feedback is very appreciated :)**

**Wish me luck tomorrow, guys! I have to interview someone for the very first time in my life tomorrow :s I'm looking forward to it, and at the same time I'm kind of freaking out because I've never done that before in my life.. **

**Anyway .. ^^  
><strong>

**- Lune x**


	18. I can feel a hot One

**Chapter 18: I can feel a hot one**

* * *

><p><em>I was in the front seat, shaking it out<br>And I was asking if you felt alright  
>I never want to hear the truth<br>I want to hear your voice, it sounded fine  
>My voice, it sounded fine<em>

_I could feel my heartbeat taking me down_  
><em>And for the moment, I would sleep alright<em>  
><em>Invading with a selfish fear<em>  
><em>To keep me up another restless night<em>  
><em>Another restless night<em>

_**Manchester Orchestra – I can feel a hot One**_

* * *

><p>Later that night, Sam was lying in bed, listening to Dean's deep, slightly snoring breaths. He'd lost count how many nights in a row he'd been unable to sleep. He was tired and achy, but he just wasn't able to fall asleep. So night after night he lay in his bed with his eyes open, listening to Dean.<p>

One night, it had made Sam blush. Dean was fast asleep when he suddenly rolled over and moaned something. Sam had shot up in his bed, staring at his brother's face to see if he was hurt or sick or maybe having a nightmare. His brother was smiling a little, muttering in his sleep. But it didn't seem to be unhappy muttering. Dean's breath hitched slightly and he moaned again, rubbing his face in his pillow. And suddenly Sam understood what was going on.

His face went beet red and he bit his lip, stifling a nervous giggle. He hid his head under his pillow and tried to concentrate very hard on something else. _Anything_ else. It wasn't like anything like this had never happened before, but usually Sammy was still half asleep when Dean woke him up like that, and therefore easily able to fall asleep again.

But tonight wasn't like that. Tonight the only sounds Dean was making were soft snores. Sam pushed himself up from his bed and leaned against the wall behind his bed. The thin curtains barely blocked the artificial light from the lampposts in the parking lot and everything bathed in orange light, making Dean look very weird. But he still looked like Dean though and that's why Sam kept staring at him. Deep inside, he wished Dean would wake up and stare back at him, like they used to do when they were younger. It felt like sharing a secret, when they lay like that in the dark, staring at each other.

"I miss you, Dean," Sam mumbled. His brother just took another deep breath, showing no sign of waking up anytime soon.

Sam pushed the covers off his bed and shivered slightly against the cold. He slowly climbed out of bed and sat down next to Dean's, leaning against it. He rested his head on the mattress and stared at his brother, lying so close to him now that he could feel Dean's breath on his face. He tentatively reached out and rested the tips of his fingers against Dean's shoulder. Dean was nice and warm and Sam smiled a little at the contact. He sneaked glances at his brother, but Dean was still out of it. Good.

He slowly rested his head against Dean's arm, holding his breath in fear he would wake up at the touch. But Dean just moved his arm a little and snored on. It was so nice and for the first time in a long while now, Sam didn't feel so lonely. Dean was here. Dean was going to make everything alright.

Except, of course, that Dean _wasn't_ going to make everything better. But while they lay like that, Sam was able to pretend that everything would be alright soon. He almost fell asleep, feeling safe so close to his brother. But it would be awkward tomorrow morning, if they'd find him asleep on the floor, half in his big brother's bed. So he yawned and rubbed his face against Dean's arm, before getting up and climbing in his own bed again.

Without Dean, he felt so lost again. For some reason, sleep just wouldn't come anymore. He felt that, without the physical connection with Dean, he'd never be able to sleep again. No matter how tired he was, his overactive mind just wouldn't let him rest. Every time he was almost asleep, he started awake with a racing heart and racing thought, fearing someone was out there to get him. It was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.

He wondered if he'd be able to sleep better in the Impala. But that would also be hard to explain to dad and he didn't want Dean and dad to find out that he was freaking out over something as stupid as school and bullies. This wouldn't have happened to Dean or dad. Never in a lifetime. It had been such a close call earlier that night. He wasn't sure if his dad bought his '_I picked the fight myself, stop freaking worrying'_ and he knew that both he and Dean would keep a closer eye on him now. Like he was a big baby.

But Dean couldn't always protect him. He had his own classes to attend and he had his _friends_. Like he was ever going to turn them down for him. He wasn't worth as much to Dean as the Outcasts. He just burdened him.

He wished there was a way to make it up to him. But after his little trip to Flagstaff last year, he knew not to run away again. Not even if he meant good and just wanted to make things better for his family. Dean and dad had been so mad, he still winced when he thought about it. But his two weeks of Sam-time had been awesome nonetheless.

He rubbed his fists in his eyes. He was so tired and his head hurt, the painful throbbing that sometimes spiked and told him that he couldn't keep up like this for much longer. The few hours of sleep he got – not even every night – were not nearly enough. He couldn't concentrate in class or at home and he was so tired he sometimes feared he'd just fall asleep standing. It made him a little dizzy and lightheaded and sometimes even sick. But maybe the sick feeling was just caused by the stress of having to go to school.

Where was the time he loved going to school? He hoped he'd find his love again once they moved. That would be nice. School, after all, was supposed to be the place where he could hide from his hunter's life. The place where he could be good in something for once.

Where they didn't yell at him that he was going to get them all killed if he didn't improve.

Sam still flinched at that memory. His dad had been so mad at him. He hadn't meant to make his father so angry. Just a little angry, not much. But he guessed he'd had it coming.

It still hurt though, when his father yelled those words at him.

He sighed and rolled over again. He was tired of being tired. He just wanted to sleep. Why was it so hard to fall asleep?

He gave up somewhere around three in the morning. He wanted to do some research to feel at least a little productive and solve the case faster. But he couldn't possibly do anymore research. They knew what was killing the students – a witch – and his books weren't going to help him find out _who_ the murderer was.

Maybe he could hack into the school files, get a complete list of all students. He'd hacked into them before to find Susannah Winters – which had been a total bust, but still. He wondered if his dad had made a list of all students yet and how he was deciding who was a good suspect and who wasn't. According to his father, they could scratch all boys, but that still left a lot of female suspects. He guessed you could scratch all family and friends from the dead girls. After all, who would kill their family or friend? He sure as hell wouldn't be able to strangle his father or Dean to death. Or melt them to death while he strangled them, for that matter.

So he started the laptop and hacked the school files again, to compile a list of students. He wished they had a printer, but he guessed he'd just have to use MS Word or Excel or something to scratch students who he thought didn't fit the profile.

He highlighted the kids who worked for the paper in yellow, so they stood out and started on a family tree of the dead girls. He was surprised to see that Tatiana, the first victim, was a cousin of Gary. Even though he hated his guts, he felt a little sorry for him. He didn't have any cousins he knew of, but just thinking about losing a family member was enough to close his throat in fear and pain. He started to understand Gary's need to 'purify' the town. He also discovered that he'd been right about Judith – Mia's friend – and Ann Fortney being sisters. Mia was a monster though, and he didn't put it past her to kill her friend's sister. So he highlighted her as well.

He highlighted the other cheerleaders and reserve cheerleaders as well, since most victims had been cheerleaders and it was still possible that they just killed each other to get a better spot on the cheerios. That didn't explain Ann and Kathrine's death though.

He highlighted the girls in chemistry club, because even though dad was pretty sure they were dealing with a witch, his first thought had been chemicals. It was still possible, and he'd seen on TV that you had to keep an open mind in murder investigations. And that the killer was always the one you least expected it from.

Maybe it was a teacher.

He didn't know why a teacher would randomly kill students, but it was possible, right?

Or maybe it was a girl who'd slept with a teacher, and then found out that all the other girls had slept with him as well, which made her so angry she killed them all.

Or maybe he just needed more sleep, before he came up with even more ridiculous ideas.

When he was done compiling the list, he yawned and hacked into the morgue files again, to see if there was any new information or details he had overlooked.

His eyes grew wide and he gasped softly when he noticed a new name on the list.

"Shit," he cursed softly, "_Shit!_ Dean! _Dean! _Wake up! _Dean!_"

Dean groaned in annoyance and hid under his covers, trying to block out Sam's noise and sleep on.

"Come on, now," Sam rolled his eyes and threw a pillow in Dean's direction, "_DEAN!_"

"_WHAT?_" Dean yelled back, "Geez, Sammy, let a guy sleep."

"Melissa Brandon," he read out loud, "16 years old."

He clicked to open the file and turned back to Dean as he went over the information, "She played the flute in the school's orchestra and was killed in the art room, like the other girls. She was strangled and melted and – hey!"

Sam protested as Dean pushed him off his chair so he could sit, "Get dad, Sam."

He wanted to protest some more, but Dean glared at him and his heart missed a beat, "_Now_, Sam."

Sam tore the door open and ran to the room next to theirs, banging on the door with his fists.

"Dad!" he yelled, "Dad!"

He stumbled inside when his father pulled open the door with force and Sam was still knocking. The man looked a little sleepy, but he was armed and ready to defend his children and life if necessary.

"Sammy?" he asked, surprised, "What's wrong? Is something wrong with Dean?"

"No," Sam was a little out of breath, but he was glad the adrenaline kept the headache at bay, "No, I was… I was researching and I saw… another girl was murdered yesterday evening."

His father stared at him for almost two seconds, before he turned around, grabbed his key and followed Sam back to his room. Dean looked up from the screen when they entered, breathing a relieved "dad".

"What have we got?" John asked, as Dean got up from his seat to let his father sit down.

"Melissa Brandon," Dean repeated what Sam had told him, "16 years old… You've got to see this dad…"

Sam peaked over his father's shoulder. He hadn't been able to read much or look at the photographs before Dean had told him to get dad.

A slightly plump girl with long brown curls was lying on her back. The head of her flute was jammed in her mouth, sticking out like a shiny skyscraper. Money was sticking out of the silver offensive thing and even more green bills were stuffed in her ears.

"Figures," Sam mumbled, remembering what he'd read about her earlier that morning, "She was one of the richest girls in school. And she played the flute in the orchestra."

"How-" John started.

"Couldn't sleep," Sam shrugged, he shot his father a vague smile. John nodded and turned back to the screen.

"You made this list, Sammy?" John asked absentmindedly, looking through the list of students he had compiled earlier, "Good job kid… What time is it? … Maybe you boys should get ready for school, okay?"

They got dressed and had breakfast in silence. When they sat in the Impala, driving to school, they were still silent. Sam was leaning against the passenger's door, staring out of the window. Dean winced a little when he looked at the bruises in Sam's face. He couldn't believe Sam would pick a fight with bigger, stronger people. He didn't know his baby brother had gotten so reckless.

His dad was right; he had to look out better for Sammy.

"Sammy," Dean said, ever so softly after he'd turned the engine off. Sam had reached for the handle to get out of the car and stopped mid-movement when Dean called him, "Are you okay?"

"I… eh… yeah… Yeah, Dean, sure," he gave his brother a very quick smile and turned away again. He hated lying to Dean. Why was he asking anyway? If he didn't ask, then Sam wouldn't have to lie to him.

"I'll pick you up after school, okay?" Dean bit his lip and ran his hand over his mouth. It was a small peace-offer, but a peace-offer nonetheless and he hoped Sammy would take it.

Sam just stared at him, a calculating look in his eyes

"You don't _have_ to," he said at last.

"I want to," Dean answered and he smiled at his little brother. Sam frowned and looked his brother in the eye.

"Okay," he said, very softly, "Thanks, Dean."

Dean grinned his megawatt smile and opened his door, "Now off you go, Sammy, I'll see you later."

Sam nodded and disappeared in the crowd and Dean looked for his friends. They grinned and waved at him when they spotted him and told him about the fun they'd had the night before, and what a shame it was he hadn't been able to be there. But apparently Amy's dad hadn't let her go either, so he wasn't the only friend who hadn't shown up.

"But you _need_ to come tonight, Dean," Alexis said, looking excited, "There's something we need to show you."

Dean promised he'd ask his father.

Later, his friends drove home in Alexis' pink BMW as he waited for Sam. He'd feared they'd be mad about it or something, but they were very cool about it. They smiled and waved and pressed that he should meet them around 8 at their school's parking lot. He was curious about what they needed to show him.

When Sammy arrived, Dean saw relief flash over his brother's face when he spotted the black car. The brothers didn't speak much, apart from 'how was school?' and 'okay'. When Dean asked his father if he could go out with the Outcasts that night, John reluctantly agreed, if he promised not to drink.

So Dean pulled into the school's parking lot a little after 8, to find his friends waiting.

"You made it!" Amy smiled.

"Sure," he answered. His friends were all shooting each other glances, and he noticed they looked slightly nervous.

"So…" he said, rubbing his hand over his arm, "There was something you needed to show me?"

"Yeah," Daniel spoke up, "C'mon, follow us."

"You can't peek," Alexis exclaimed as she clapped her hands over his eyes, "It'll spoil the surprise."

He could hear Daniel hum in unenthusiastic agreement and he imagined his friends shooting each other more glances. Alexis bumped against him every now and then as they slowly made their way to the school building. He felt a little unsettled, not knowing what to think. He didn't like not knowing what was going on.

"Don't worry, Dean," Amy said, and she took his hand, giving him a small squeeze.

"Watch the stairs," Paco warned him. Amy and Alexis carefully guided him up the steps. His heart was beating a bit fast and he ran his hand over his mouth. They waited in silence, while one of them – Paco or Daniel, because Amy and Alexis were with him – picked the lock. Dean could feel their excitement as the lock clicked and Paco – or Daniel – pushed open the door. They were silent as they walked for a few minutes, before they stopped again. Another lock was being picked.

He could hear Paco whisper something he didn't catch and Amy giggled softly, thrilled.

"Careful, Dean," Daniel said, "We're going down a flight of stairs now."

Amy guided his hand to the rail and they slowly descended. He could hear someone light matches and he smelled freshly lit candles and dust.

"Don't blow us up," he teased.

"Like we said, don't worry," Daniel answered. His voice sounded a bit hoarse and deeper than usual. Dean frowned a little.

"Ready?" Alexis asked him and she released her hands. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and looked around in the room. They were in the basement, it seemed. His eyes grew big as they glided over the scenery. His friends were sitting down in the middle of the concrete room on a dark green sheet with a golden pentagram on it. Several candles were lit and bathed the room in flickering light. A thick, old book was lying open next to Amy and between his friends, on the sheet, there was an assembly of mortars – filled with colorful substances – silver knives, something that looked like a cat skull, herbs, crystals and more books.

"We know you're interested in witchcraft," Daniel said, "But really, Zoey Harris is nothing compared to us. We're the real deal."

He felt himself pale and he shook his head.

"No," he rasped, "I… you… _no_!"

"Dean?" Amy asked softly, "What's wrong?"

He couldn't answer her. What was _wrong_? His friends were into _witchcraft_.

_All those girls were killed with witchcraft._

He shook his head harder as everything clicked into place. This couldn't be. This couldn't be happening.

"Dean?" Amy asked again. He couldn't look her in the eye anymore. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He turned around and ran up the stairs, ran through the empty corridors, until he was standing on the parking lot again, next to the Impala. He couldn't believe it. This just wasn't possible.

"NO!" he screamed, his voice echoing over the empty place.

"_No_," he repeated, softer, so much hurt in his voice while his heart was clenching painfully. He slid to the ground with his back against his car and buried his face in his hands.

He had lost everything.

* * *

><p><strong>Dun dun dun duuuunnn... You guys still alive?<br>**

**So, Dean and Sam are getting closer again, while at the same time, things are falling apart for Dean. I'm so mean sometimes.**

**The interview went well, thanks for all the good luck wishes! I have 2 more interviews tomorrow that I'm even more nervous about ^^' **

**My family's home again after being home-alone for a week. There goes my peace and quietness ;)  
><strong>

**- Lune x  
><strong>


	19. Tali's Poem

**!WARNING FOR MORE GORENESS AND VIOLENCE!**

**_But if you've gotten this far, I'm sure you'll live through this as well._**_  
>I hope so at least ;)<em>**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19: Tali's poem<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I had never thought,<br>that you would control my mind.  
>You strangled me with my feelings,<br>how could I've been so blind? _

_And now I stand here all alone,  
>not knowing what to do.<br>Tears are running down my cheeks,  
>when I realize none of it was true. <em>

_How could you hurt me like that,  
>and play with my heart?<br>How could you ruin my life,  
>and tear my soul apart? <em>

_I want to hate you,  
>ban you from my mind.<br>But when I look inside my heart,  
>love is what I find. <em>

_**Part of an untitled poem by one of my RL best friends, Tali**_

_**Originally a poem about a heartbreak over love, here meant as Dean's heartbreak over finding out the Outcasts could be the bad guys.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p>Dean wasn't sure how he got back to the motel. The only thing he could think about was how it all fit. Every time the Outcasts went out, a girl died. Amy worked for the paper. Paco was an artist. Alexis made her own clothes. And Daniel… he didn't know about Daniel.<p>

He'd been so _stupid_!

He'd blindly trusted a group of strangers. He had never questioned them; never had it occurred to him that they could be the bad guys. He'd been blind and foolish.

He had _trusted_ them. He'd been willing to die for them if necessary. He'd loved them and needed them.

He still did.

By the time he knocked on the door of their motel room, he felt sick and dizzy with grief and betrayal. For a few wonderful weeks, they had been his everything. He had wanted to spend the rest of his life with them. And now he had lost everything.

He had never felt more lost in his life.

"Dean?" his father sounded surprised when he fell inside. He wanted to curl up in a miserable ball of self-pity and cry for a few days. He wanted to kill them all personally. They had fooled him and betrayed him.

Had their friendship meant nothing to them? Had he perhaps been under a spell that had blinded him for the truth and had bound him to them?

Why had they done this to him?

He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed water in his face. He brought his hands to his eyes and held them there, trembling with misery.

Everything. He had lost everything.

"Dean?" Sam asked, placing a small hand on Dean's back. Dean stiffened, he didn't want that right now. He didn't want Sam to hover over him and make him feel even worse. He tried to shrug his hand off, but his little brother was persistent.

"Dean…" he repeated, softer and more gently.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Dean screamed, turning around and with his arms outstretched, hitting Sam on his shoulder and pushing him away, "I don't… want you."

He wanted the Outcasts. He wanted Amy's soft arms around him to make it all better.

But Amy was the bad guy now.

Sam shrunk away from him like a kicked dog, making Dean feel even worse. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find the words and decided that it didn't matter anyway. He'd lost Sam too, so long ago already.

Sam stared at him with his big, scared puppy eyes and Dean wanted to yell at him, scream and kick at him. And then he realized that it was not Sam he wanted to do that to. He wanted Sam to be close to him and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

Sam sighed softly, shook his head and walked away from him, leaving Dean behind in the cold bathroom.

Dean slid to the floor and rested his head on his knees, pulling on his hair.

"Dean," his father said from somewhere high above him. He looked up and his father sighed when their looks crossed. He closed the door, shutting Sam out and slid down next to his son, their shoulders touching slightly.

"What happened?"

"The Outcasts…" Dean struggled to find the right words and his breath. He hadn't known he could hurt this bad without someone even touching him. His dad didn't say anything, just waited until he found the courage to go on.

"I'm sorry, daddy," he whispered, feeling like a four year old again. He shuddered, leaning a little closer to his father, "I didn't know… I swear I didn't know."

John still didn't say anything.

"They're… They're a coven of witches," he choked a little on the words. He couldn't believe they were true. But they were, they'd shown him themselves that they were.

"The Outcasts?" John asked, sounding a little surprised. Dean nodded, pressing even closer to his father.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

"Good work, Dean," John said and Dean looked up, puzzled, "You can keep a close eye on them now."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Well, yes," John answered slowly, "They're suspects now. You've befriended them and they trust you. Try to do everything with them. From now on, if they ask you to go out, you say yes, so we can catch them in the act… or even better, you get all the information you can and you warn us and then we'll go to the school and wait, so we can catch them in the act. They haven't taken you on one of their killing sprees before, it'd surprise me if they started doing that now."

"You… you want me to hang out even more with them?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"Indeed," John confirmed. He was cut off short by Dean's raspy voice.

"I can't…" he shook his head, "Dad, please… I can't… don't make me."

"If they're the killers, we must catch them Dean," John said patiently, "You're our best hope. Try to get them to confess."

"But dad…" Dean was so close to crying he could already hear it in his voice, "I can't…"

"You can and you will," John said sternly, pushing himself up from the ground and looking down at his son, "This is more important than hurt feelings, Dean. The lives of several girls depend on it. You are responsible for their lives."

Dean couldn't speak. His mouth opened and closed in shocked gestures. He couldn't believe his dad could be so cold and heartless. He missed his mother more than ever. Her soft voice and gentle touch. Her kisses when he hurt himself and her hugs when he was sad. His father would never be soft and gentle like that.

"I trust you, Dean," John said and he left the bathroom, leaving Dean behind as well. His father trusted him on this one. He couldn't let his father down.

But it hurt so bad. Even worse than when he broke seven ribs because a ghost had sent him flying.

_This is more important than hurt feelings._

Of course it is. He just had to get over himself. He had to man up and face them in the morning, acting like nothing had happened.

Even though he would be dying on the inside.

- SPN -

The next morning, both brothers sat in the Impala in front of the school building. Neither of them made a move to leave the car, so they sat in silence for several minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. Both consumed by fear, but each for their own reasons. Dean wished he could just turn the car around and drive back to the motel and Sam wished the same. But finally, after they had both gotten the trembling of their hands under control, Dean pulled the key out of the contact and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds.

"Be careful, Dean," Sam said softly. Dean slowly turned his head towards the squirt and nodded, a hopefully reassuring smile on his face. He hoped he didn't look as devastated as he felt.

"You too," Dean mumbled. They both left the car and Dean looked around. He wished the Outcasts were all absent, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly made his way to the ball of energy that was Alexis in the morning.

No one had died yesterday evening.

The thought struck him like lightning and he clamped to that thought. Maybe there was still hope.

"Hi," he said softly when he was close enough for them to hear him. They fell silent and Dean could feel them staring at him, but he was too much of a pussy to look them in the eyes.

"Dean?" Amy sounded surprised and worried, "Are you alright?"

"'m fine," he mumbled, pressing his toe in the dirt on the ground. He froze when she wrapped her arms around him and he could swear his heart missed a beat.

"You were gone so fast," she breathed and he looked at her when she let go of him again. She was smiling at him, softly and worried. He didn't understand, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah…" he nodded quickly, looking briefly at all of his 'friends', "I… I'm sorry… I just… freaked out yesterday."

"We noticed," Daniel said with a grin and a bump against his arm. Dean flinched slightly.

"Listen, dude," Daniel said, "We didn't mean to scare you. You just seemed so interested in the whole witchcraft stuff, asking about Zoey and all. But really, why join her little coven if you have us?"

Dean swallowed and nodded tightly, "I'm not really… into the whole… witchcraft stuff, though…"

"You're not?" Daniel asked, surprised, "Oh man, we must have given you such a scare…" he laughed, "I'm sorry Dean. No hard feelings, right?"

"I… eh… no…" Dean shook his head and gave Daniel a quick smile, "No, of course not."

"Good," Daniel turned towards his friends, "I didn't make my geography homework, and Ms. DeVries said she'd give me detention if I failed to hand in the homework again… I need some help, guys."

"I'll help you," Alexis offered and she tugged Paco along. Dean remained where he was standing and stared after the three of them. He tiredly rubbed his hand over his face, not knowing what to do. He felt so lost. If Sam ever found out, he'd make fun of him forever. But Sam wasn't here now. Sam was with his friends.

"You're still freaking out a little, aren't you?" Amy asked softly. Dean jumped a little. He'd forgotten she was standing next to him and hadn't gone with the rest of him, "Don't worry about it. I freaked out about it at first too."

"I just… don't understand," Dean mumbled, feeling like an idiot.

"Don't understand what?" she asked with a smile.

"You seemed like such nice guys," he confessed.

"And now not anymore?" she asked. He looked at her. Ever since he'd first met them, he'd liked Amy best. She was silent and a bit shy. She was kind and gentle and she just screamed 'like me' and 'trust me' at him. And he did. He did like and trust her.

"Why?" he asked, desperate to understand, "You're so sweet. Why would you do something so awful?"

"What's so awful about it?"

"Witchcraft is bad, Amy," now desperate for her to understand, "It's evil."

"We're not _evil_, Dean," she sounded highly offended at that, "Stop seeing everything so black and white. There's a grey zone, you know."

"No," he pressed his eyes shut, "No, there isn't. Not in my world…"

"Well, you're world sucks then," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked at her with pain in his heart, "They pulled you into witchcraft. Why do you hang out with them? You're so amazing… you could be so much more."

"You don't understand, do you?" she frowned and had a sorry look in her eyes, "You think I'm so much better than them, but I'm not. And they're not bad people. They're my friends and they care for me, more than anyone has ever cared for me. And we care about you too, Dean. You're our friend."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand and continued, "You think we're freaks. Everyone thinks we are. But we're not. And neither are you. I love them, and they love me. Without them, I'm nothing… I'm no one… We don't belong anywhere else but with each other… the Outcasts…"

She sighed, closed her eyes and turned her head away from him, "We could just as well have been called the Lonely. That's all we are Dean. That's all everyone is. But it's better to be lonely together than alone. I refuse to be lonely alone ever again and so do they."

"I don-"

"Don't you see, Dean?" she sounded desperate, "We're all _lonely_. My father hates me, Alexis will never be what her parents want her to be, Paco lives with his grandmother because his parents are still in Mexico and Daniel… Daniel's sister is _dead_, Dean. Dead. He cared more about her than about anyone else in the world and now she's gone. He couldn't do anything to stop it. That's why he started with the witchcraft in the first place. He just wanted to be able to speak to Julie again."

"Julie…" Dean repeated.

"Yes, Julie," Amy said, she grew silent again, "She really was the sweetest. Daniel just wants to be close to his sister."

"That's all you guys do?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Well, no," she shrugged and grinned, "We prank people too."

_Who then end up dead_.

Dean shook his head and looked at the smaller girl with pain in his heart.

"Prank… how?" Dean asked. His voice sounded a bit hoarse.

She shrugged again and grinned wider, "Well, we once had spiders coming out of Trinity Smith's locker. And then there was that time we made Dwayne Parker's football outfit pink. Oh!" she started laughing, "Once, we made Mr. Skellington's hair fall out. He was bald for a full week before his hair started growing back. They all had it coming and it's not like we actually hurt them."

Could they all be innocent? Could it be that everything just seemed to be against them?

God, he hoped it could.

But even if they were innocent, he'd never be able to look at them the same way again. He couldn't be friends with a coven of witches. That just went against everything he believed him. Starting with the opinion that all witches should burn at the stake. He wondered if he could just openly ask her if she'd killed all those girls.

Probably not.

Amy sighed when she noticed Dean wasn't laughing, "So… are we cool?"

"Yeah…" Dean swallowed and nodded, "Sure. I'm just…"

"I know," she interrupted, "It's freaky at first. You'll get used to it."

Dean nodded. He just hoped he'd be able to quickly solve the case, and that his friends weren't the murderers.

His heart clenched at the thought, so painfully that he couldn't breathe for a few seconds.

"C'mon," Amy said and she guided the way, "The others will be wondering where we are."

He wished he could let her go alone and that he didn't have to face his 'friends' again. But he had promised his dad. And Dean Winchester always kept his promises.

"Are we going out tonight?" Paco asked later, when the five of them were having lunch at the pond, like usual. Dean pricked up his ears and listened as closely as he could. He pushed his food around, not hungry at all.

"Yeah, sure," Daniel answered, "We'll meet here around 9, 'kay?"

"Sure," Paco said, and he turned towards Dean, "You coming?"

What would his father want? His father would want him to report this and then he and Dean would be able to wait at the school for them to make a move. If they were going to make a move tonight, that was. They hadn't killed anyone yesterday evening either.

"I can't," he answered and he tried not to sound relieved.

"Too bad," Alexis sighed. Amy looked at him suspiciously. He must have thought he was too freaked out to hang with them.

In a way, she was right.

Later that night, he, Sam and dad were walking into the parking lot of their school. They had parked the Impala on the street. Everything seemed silent and peaceful. As Dean breathed out, small puffs of condensed air formed in front of him and he shivered slightly, looking around. They were half an hour early and the others hadn't arrived yet. He had a bad feeling about this.

John picked the lock and Dean noticed how pale and frightened Sam looked. He was so young still. He shouldn't have to hunts with them. He should be at a real home, watching TV while eating cookies and phoning girls and friends.

Their footsteps sounded loud in his own ears as they slowly made their way to the third floor, where the art class was. John pushed the door to the art corridor open and they froze when they heard the sound of footsteps. Dean's heartbeat sped up and he peered over his father's shoulder to have a good look.

_Please don't let it be them. Please don't let it be them. Please, please, please…_

In the shadows on the other end of the corridor, someone froze. He couldn't make out who it was, but she was bigger than Amy or Alexis and clearly a girl.

_It wasn't them! It wasn't them!_

He could have cried in relief.

For two precious seconds, all four of them stood still, staring at each other in shock. Then, John made a beeline for the girl and she disappeared through the thick doors to another stairway.

"Check the art class!" John yelled over his shoulder before he too disappeared through the door.

Dean and Sam looked briefly at each other and ran to the art class. Dean picked the lock and the door flew open with a loud bang. The scent of blood and dead hit him before he even turned on the light. When he did turn it on, his stomach roiled and he almost vomited. He clamped a hand over his mouth and breathed heavily, not knowing if it was better to breathe through his mouth or nose.

He slowly came closer to the body of the girl. There was blood _everywhere_.

It took him a few seconds, but finally he recognized the tanned girl as Bridget Roans, another girl on the cheerleader squat. He gagged several times at the sight before him, but managed to keep his food down. The bruises on her neck were hard to see under all the blood. Her eyes were wide open but _gone (melted, that sick son of a bitch)_ and deep bloody black holes stared back at him. Her heart was missing from her chest, another big gaping wound. Her face was cut open in an ear-to-ear – literally – Sicilian Smile.

He retched and ran to the window, throwing it open and sticking his nose outside to get some fresh air before he would be sick all over himself or the crime scene. After a few seconds he felt slightly better already. It was then that he heard a soft thud and the clatter of falling chairs. He turned around sharply and almost fell out of the window when he saw Sammy lying on the ground, pale as a ghost.

"Sam!" he yelled and ran to his brother's, "Sammy!"

"Dean," Sam moaned as Dean fell on his knees next to him, "I don't feel good."

"It's okay," Dean whispered, softly petting Sam's hair as he pulled the kid's head in his lap, "It's okay, Sammy, I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. It's just a dead girl. She's not going to hurt you."

Sam softly started crying and Dean made shushing sounds as he wiped the tears from the kid's eyes.

"It's okay Sammy," he mumbled, "Come on, you need some air."

He pulled his brother on his feet and pulled him to the window, hugging him close from behind to hold him upright as the kid breathed in fresh air.

"Dean," Sam mumbled softly, heavily leaning against him, grasping Dean's leather jacket. With a pang of guilt, he realized that he had been wrong. Sam did need him. He had been so blinded by his friendship with the Outcasts, that he'd forgotten what was truly important in this life. He wrapped his arms closer around Sammy, watching the kid slowly get some color back on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry Sammy," he whispered, pressing his face in his brother's soft hair, "I'm _so_ sorry."

* * *

><p><strong>So, the Outcasts aren't the murderers after all.<br>HAH I HAD YOU ALL GOING, ISN'T IT? :p**

**For those of you who don't know what a Sicilian Smile is: it was (is?) used by the mafia as a form of punishment. You cut someone's face open from one ear to another, then you let your victim go. In Dutch it's called 'an Angel's smile' and my dad used to scare me with telling me that there were gangs on the train and busses who'd corner young girls and give them the choice between 'an angel's smile' or getting raped. It luckily never happened to me, but it has indeed been on the news that that was happening. freaky much.  
><strong>

**We're almost there guys, only three more chapters to go :) maybe four, depending on how things work out ^^ Everything is planned, it only has to be written :) **

**2 more interviews tomorrow! I'm not nervous anymore :) The others went well, so I hope these will go well as well ^^ Pff, writing papers is so much work! Or maybe I just want to be too thorough ^^ **

**Love,  
>- Lune x<br>**


	20. For my Brother

**I'm a day late with this update :o I'm so sorry!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20: For my Brother<strong>

_You live inside my wall and I,  
>I reach back, hit your harder than God falls<br>Christ, Amen, Amen, Amen.  
>You're such a line to break and I'm,<br>I'm so scared to make another mistake in the end  
>But I just want to be happy again.<em>

_Until it all falls down,_  
><em>and where does that leave me?<em>  
><em>With things, things, I've got so many things to say<em>  
><em>with a broken heart and a straight face<em>  
><em>I'm saying, "brother, help me"<em>

_**Blue October – For my Brother**_

* * *

><p>They stood like that for a couple of minutes, before the door flew open with a bang and they turned around, startled.<p>

"Dad," Sam breathed in relief. John frowned upon seeing his boys.

"What happened?" he asked, sounding a little out of breath and very frustrated. He glanced at the body in the middle of the room and frowned.

"Sam fainted," Dean said.

"I did not," Sam protested.

"Dude," Dean grinned at the younger child, "You so did."

"Did not," Sam fought out of Dean's grasp, "I just… got a little dizzy."

"And then fell to the floor," Dean added, "Which totally counts as fainting."

"Enough," John snapped. He kneeled down by the body, "Sammy, are you okay now? … Good, go wait in the hallway."

Dean watched his brother leave and looked at his father, who was closely examining the dead girl. He made a disgusted face, unable to look at her without feeling his stomach turn.

"Did you get her?" he asked softly.

"No," John sighed, "I almost had her, but then she disappeared."

"Like a ghost?" Dean asked.

"No," John looked up at his son, "Like a witch… Do you know the girl?"

Dean nodded sadly, "Yeah. Her name is… was Bridget. She's a cheerleader. Her… her heart is missing."

"I can see that," John said curtly.

"I think I know why," Dean whispered, "I… A lot of people claimed she had no heart. As in, she was a really cold person. Didn't care about anyone other than herself."

"Never smiled either, I'm guessing," John pointed to her face. Dean swallowed, shrugging. John shot a glance at his son and sighed, "Come on. It's been a long day. Let's head home, there's not much else we can do here."

Dean nodded and made his way out of the classroom. Sam was sitting on the floor and smiled shyly at him and dad when they came out. They walked down the school in silence, the only sound their shoes on the floor. John stopped short in his tracks when he heard laughter outside. His sons looked at him and they crept to a window to look outside, switching off their flashlights.

"It's your friends," Sam whispered. Dean could feel his pulse speed up, a painful hand clenching his heart. His friends. He licked his lips and bit them, silently watching the group of teenagers. They didn't look back, not knowing he was there. He rested a hand against the wall and sighed shakily. A large hand on his shoulder made him jump.

"You can join them if you like," John said softly, "Now they're off the hook."

Dean gazed at them a few seconds longer, before he quietly shook his head, "I'll see them tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, son," John said after a couple more seconds of silence. Dean shook his head and crept away from the window.

"There's a back entrance we can leave through," he mumbled. He could hear Alexis laughing hysterically. They were getting closer, probably on their way to the basement. He looked over his shoulder at the door and sighed again. Then he turned around and followed his father and brother to the back entrance. Dad didn't make a big show out of picking the lock and they were quickly back in the car, on their way to the motel. Dean was staring out of his window. His hands were clenched fists in his lap.

A few hours later – when they thought it would be safe to assume that the Outcasts had gone home – John called the police anonymously, telling them they'd seen light at the school as they drove by.

Neither of the Winchester brothers got a good night of sleep that night. They stared at each other in silence. Every now and then one of them would open their mouths to say something, but then they'd think again and drop it again. What could they possibly say to each other?

Breakfast and the car ride were silent as well. For the second day in a row, the brothers sat in silence in the car after Dean had shut off the engine. They stared at the grey school building and the people, wondering if they shouldn't just turn around and go back. What was keeping them here? Apart from the hunt, that was.

Dean closed his eyes when he spotted Alexis' short blue hair. He didn't want to talk to them. They had betrayed him. He had trusted them, and they had turned out to be monsters. He had thought about it the entire night, and he had realized that it didn't matter whether or not they had killed those girls. They were into witchcraft, and it would only be a matter of time before they turned to black magic and became the monsters he hunted. And he didn't want to be the hunter who had to kill them. Look them in the eye and stab them with their own silver knives, until the light disappeared from their eyes and they'd stare back at him vacantly, all the while silently asking him 'why?'. Why had _he_ turned against _them_? But it wasn't he who would turn against them. It was them who had turned against him.

He startled when someone knocked on his window and opened his eyes in shock. Sam was staring at him, wide-eyed and he gave him a small smile. When he turned his head, he saw Daniel standing by the side of his car, impatiently ticking his fingers against the varnish. Dean winced.

"Daniel," he said slowly, opening the door and getting out of his car.

"Finally," Daniel answered, "I thought you were never going to get out of that car of yours."

Dean shot Sam a quick look and his little brother scrambled out of the car, closing his door gently. The brothers locked eyes for a few seconds, until Sam pulled up his shoulders and looked at the school building.

"Bye Dean," he breathed.

"Have fun, Sammy," Dean half mumbled. He watched his brother walk away and turned back towards Daniel, who was looking at him with a funny look on his face.

"What?" Dean asked. Daniel shrugged.

"Nothing," he said, "You coming?"

Dean's heartbeat sped up again as they came closer to the other three Outcasts. Amy and Alexis smiled at him and Paco held up his hand for a second. Dean tried to smile back, but he feared it came out more as a grimace.

"Too bad you couldn't be there yesterday," Alexis said happily.

_While you were doing witchcraft._

He nodded and shrugged, stared at his feet.

_Slowly turning evil._

"Will you be there tonight?" she asked. Dean looked up. They were going out again tonight. Doing witchcraft. Becoming evil, "Shannon needs to be taught a _witchy_ lesson."

"I…" he said, looking at the four teenagers. One day, a hunter was going to have to end them all.

He had _trusted_ them.

"I can't do this," he blurted out. They stared back in surprise and confusion.

"Can't do… what?" Paco asked slowly.

"Acting like I'm okay with this," he half shouted, "I can't… Because I'm _not_. I'm _not okay_ with this. I mean… _witchcraft_… I can't."

"Dean…" Amy softly said, laying a hand on his arm. He flinched and pulled back his arm quickly, stumbling backwards.

"No!" he panted, his eyes flashing from one person to another, "I can't… I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't be your friend anymore. Not when you're…"

_Slowly turning evil._

"Witches," Daniel finished.

"Witches," Dean repeated, "I'm sorry."

He took a deep breath and turned around, closing his eyes for a second or two, before walking away from them.

"Fine!" Alexis yelled and he flinched, "We don't _need_ you! If you think you're so much above us! You're just as much a freak as we are!"

He scrunched his eyes shut and formed fists in his pockets to keep himself from crying. He could hear the others say something, but their words didn't reach his ears.

"_Freak!_" Alexis repeated. His bottom lip quivered a little and he would have ran away from them. He walked away stoically, listening to the Outcasts arguing. He had fallen out with _the Outcasts_. They had been at the bottom of the food chain and he'd fallen out with them. Now he truly was a nobody.

He climbed back in his car and cranked up the music as he kicked off his shoes. He pulled his legs on the leather and rested his head on top of his knees, hugging them close.

He had trusted them. He had loved them. And they had betrayed him.

When the first bell rang, he didn't move. He watched as the other students entered the building and went to their classes and the grounds became quiet and desolate. A guy he didn't know strolled in ten minutes late. One of the losers from his psychology class – Heather – ran to the school a couple of minutes later, her long blond hair trailing behind her. Maybe he should sit with her from now on. Maybe she wouldn't let him down.

It wasn't until the end of the first break that he moved out of his car and back to the school building. The teacher didn't look up when he entered his class, a couple of minutes late. He was too busy writing something on the blackboard.

School had never gone that slowly. Everywhere he looked, he saw one of the Outcasts staring at him. Every time he caught them looking, they quickly looked away and focused on something else. Alexis glared at him openly and slammed her shoulder against his arm when they crossed paths. He rubbed the sore spot and stared after her.

Would he be next on their witchy to-do-list?

By the time they were going home, he was about ready to start throwing punches. When Sam asked him something, he snapped at him without having heard what the kid had said. He was terrified that if he listened to him, if he answered honestly and opened up, he'd start crying. He was scared to death that Sam could see right through him.

His father and Sam left him alone as much as possible. They had dinner in awkward silence, with a lot of glances between Sam and John. By the time John had gone to his own room and Sam was getting ready to go to bed, Dean felt like he would explode. When Sam finally whispered 'good night, Dean' in such a soft manner that Dean knew that Sam knew, he screamed at the kid.

Realizing that he was ruining everything, he turned around and stomped out of their room. Sam ran to the window, staring after his brother with a frightened heart. When Dean reached the Impala he was ready to run after him and stop him. But Dean didn't get into his car. He kicked the tire and fell on his knees in front of it, resting his head on the hood and half-hugging it awkwardly. His shoulders were shaking and Sam wondered if he should join his brother. If he should sit down next to him and wrap his little arms around his brother's shaking form, telling him that everything would be alright.

But what did he know?

So he sat by the window and stared at Dean, as his brother sobbed. After a while, Dean got up from the ground and climbed on the hood, leaning against the windshield. He wondered if dad was looking at his brother as well.

Dean pulled his legs up and stared at the sky. Stars were staring back at him, twinkling in their innocence. Somewhere up there was his mother, staring down at him. He wondered if she felt proud when she looked at him, or just disappointed at what he'd turned out to be. He wondered if she still cared.

"I miss you, mom," he whispered. He wished he could have said that the wind had picked up at his words, rustling the leaves and his clothes, but nothing happened. After all, this was not some movie where the people who died never really left you. He had learned long ago that if the dead were still around, it wasn't because they were looking out for him. It was because they were restless, vengeful spirits.

He wished that his mother hadn't left him, but even more than that, he wished that she had found peace now.

He had made a mistake befriending the Outcasts. He should have known that he'd only get hurt. That's what always happened. Alexis was right. He _was_ a freak. Normal wasn't made for him. Normal was made for normal people. Unlike him.

He knew now that he shouldn't strive for normalcy. That only got him hurt anyway. He didn't need people. He didn't need anyone other than dad and Sam. They were the most important people in his life, and he now realized that his only goal was to keep Sammy safe and happy. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam was all that mattered.

He looked at their motel room, both the windows to his and his father's room darkened.

He was a freak.

He breathed out a shuddering laugh, staring up at the sky.

"You hear that mom?" he asked, "I'm a freak."

"I'm a freak," he repeated, softer.

"You're a superhero," a deep voice said somewhere next to him, startling him, "Now get off the Impala before you make a dent and go to bed."

"I'm sorry dad," he mumbled, pushing himself off the hood. He stared at the asphalt under his feet as he walked past the big man.

"Dean," his father said softly, gruffly. Dean stopped when a hand landed on his shoulder, turning him around. He froze as his father pulled him in a quick hug, "I'm sorry, kid. Don't let the world bring you down."

"Dad," he choked, pressing his face against his father's shoulder for a moment.

"Go to bed," his father repeated, breaking their contact and efficiently ending the chick-flick moment. Dean nodded. He didn't see Sam run to his bed and jump in it as he slowly made his way to his door. He didn't see the kid quickly close his eyes and pretend to sleep, while feeling guilty about having witnessed something very personal. He didn't know his brother wanted to crawl in bed with him, not for his own comfort for once but to make _him_ feel better.

He simply didn't know all that.

What he did know, was that he dreamed about Sam that night and that when he woke up and he saw the kid sleeping peacefully, some of the pressure on his heart loosened. He softly brushed his fingers through Sam's hair before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Sam smiled at that, as soon as he knew his brother wasn't looking at him anymore. He opened his eyes a little and watched Dean grab his clothes and close the bathroom door behind him. The shower started running and he turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was so tired.

So tired, and yet he couldn't sleep. It was exhausting.

Their school days went equally slow. Everywhere Dean looked, he saw the Outcasts and every time he spotted them, his blood ran cold and a fist squeezed close around his heart, pangs of emotional pain shooting through him. He wished he could just let them go, as easily as he'd let go of all those cheerleaders he'd shagged in janitor's closets and empty classrooms. But whereas those cheerleaders had meant nothing to him, the Outcasts did.

When he locked eyes with Amy, she smiled sadly at him. He turned around and walked away quickly, before his heart would completely explode. He felt like a teenage girl in some high school drama, crying her eyes out over her cheating boyfriend.

He looked for Sam during lunch, but he couldn't find him. He'd never minded to have lunch on his own until now. Now it felt like there was a piece of him missing.

When the last school bell rang, Sam was hurrying to his locker, when someone grabbed him from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth. He looked around frantically for help, but no one even looked at him.

"No sound," Mia hissed in his ear, and she slammed his head against the wall, making him see stars. Other hands grabbed his arms and dragged him along. He lashed at them, but a fist in his stomach effectively stilled him. His mind was racing with thoughts, most of them consisting of his brother's name. Dean had to save him.

_Dean. Dean. Dean. Dean._

But Dean wasn't here. Dean was waiting by the car for Sam to come so they could go 'home'.

"You disgust me," Mia spat at him as she yanked him out of her friend's arms and threw him on the ground. She kicked him with one of her expensive white boots and he groaned, trying to curl in a ball.

"Oh, please, Whine-Chester," Gary sneered, appearing next to Mia, "Giving up already? You're pathetic."

The word echoed through his head.

"Get up from the ground," Gary growled. He grabbed Sam by his coat and yanked him back to his feet, pushing him around. He stumbled into one of Gary's friends' arms, who pushed him back, causing him to stumble against another one of Gary's friends, who pushed him back. This little game of theirs went on for a couple of seconds, until Mia grew tired of it and kicked him in the jewels.

He fell to the floor, groaning and Mia's boot filled his vision before it connected with his nose. He was certain he heard something crack, before blood gushed out of it and dribbled down his face, into the cold grass. He could see the school pond through a mist of unshed tears.

"You are so nauseating," Mia made a face as she climbed on top of him and untangled his limbs, her delicate hands squeezing his throat slightly, just enough to make him wheeze.

"What do you say now, huh Lose-Chester?" she spat.

He didn't know what she wanted to hear, so he didn't say anything at all. He heard Gary say Mia's name, somewhere in the distance.

"Gross!" she yelled as blood gushed over her hand, "You need to learn manners!"

She got off him and he coughed. Mia snapped her fingers and said something, and suddenly they were dragging him somewhere else. He struggled harder when the pond came back into his view, now suddenly much closer.

"You got blood on me!" Mia shrieked, taking over from her friends and pulling him into the cold lake, "We need to get you cleaned up."

And she pushed his head under.

Sam's eyes opened wide and he tried to scream for help. Water gushed into his mouth and nose and eyes and ears and he _couldn't breathe_.

Before he could panic fully, Mia pulled him back up. He gasped for breath and heard her say something. Gary crouched next to him and looked him in the eye.

"You're unclean," he said coldly. And Mia plunged his head back under water. He struggled harder, trying to free himself. She held him under longer this time. His vision was getting a little hazy around the edges as she pulled him back out, gasping and spluttering. Gary was still looking at him and he sent him a pleading looked, unable to form words.

Mia pushed him back under.

His longs burnt and his heart was beating frantically. It was as if fireworks were going off in his head, and it wasn't the good kind. His fists opened and close and he trashed in an attempt to throw her off. More water gushed into his mouth as he involuntary tried to get some oxygen in his system. He lost track of the time, ice-cold water numbing his senses.

When Mia pulled him back up, Gary wasn't in his eye-range anymore, only water and drops of crimson blood, still falling from his nose. He tried to say something, to draw in a breath, but Mia pushed him under again. The fight was slowly leaving his body and he felt so heavy and weightless at the same time. He vaguely noticed there was something going on above the surface.

"Mia," Gary said softly. When she didn't answer, he repeated her name, louder, "Mia!"

"What?" she snapped, an angry look in her eyes.

"Don't you think that's enough?" he asked, pointing at the only occasionally lashing out kid in her hands. She pulled him out of the water and plunged him under again.

"Mia!" he shouted, "Knock it off! You're killing him."

"What is your _problem_, Gary?" she shouted back, "He's just another loser!"

"You're _killing_ him," he repeated, more frantically, "Mia, come on! Stop it! He's not worth it!"

"What do you know?" she yelled at him.

"I lost a cousin too, Mia!" he yelled back, "Let go of him!"

He grabbed Mia's wrist, trying to pull the loser back up. He managed to get him out of the water for a few seconds, hearing weak coughing and sobbing.

"Are you one of them now, Gary?" Mia asked, "Are you one of the losers now?"

She pushed him away and he stumbled back, falling in the water.

"Mia," he said, "You're not a murderer. You're a bored, spoiled brat, but you're not a murderer."

She glared at him, "He's a no one. He isn't worth anything. I'm not killing him."

Gary looked around frantically, hoping to see a teacher or someone else who could help. But of course, when were there ever teachers around in this school? He scrambled to his feet and staggered out of the pond, running away from the scene. Mia was killing the kid. That wasn't the plan. That had never been the plan. Not with any of those losers they tried to harden for real life.

"Fine, Gary!" she yelled after him, "I don't need you! Go back to your mommy! You're next, you loser!"

He ran as fast as he could.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry I updated so late! Real life has been crazy busy, and I didn't finish the chapter until a couple of minutes ago.<strong>

**A small moment inside Gary's head :o **

**And if you've gotten totally depressed by now due to the enormous lack of brotherly love in this story, I have a nice little surprise for you ^^ I wrote a small one-shot full of brotherly love ^^ It's called 'Of Showers and Sasquatch Little Brothers' and even though it's not the best thing I've ever written, I think it's kind of cute and good to loosen the stress over the lack of brotherly love here ;)**

**Love,  
>- Lune x<br>**


	21. Sammy, he whispers

**Chapter 21: [Sammy], He Whispers**

* * *

><p>'<em>Cause [Sammy] I've heard the voice of God<br>And he whispered fear is logical  
>And the words that we heard aren't repeatable<br>And the thought that could kill comprehendible_

_And we're brothers and that's alright_  
><em>Yeah, we're brothers until we die<em>

_**Manchester Orchestra – Jimmy, He Whispers**_

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><p>Dean was waiting by the Impala, impatiently tapping his fingers on her roof while staring at the school building. Sammy was late. Most kids were already gone, and Sam still hadn't shown up. He wondered if something had happened.<p>

Alexis's pink car had disappeared from the school parking lot a few minutes ago, but he'd seen only her and Daniel in it. Not that he was watching them, longing for them. 'Cause that wasn't the case. At all.

He rubbed his hand over his arm. Who was he kidding? Of course that was the case. He missed them, but he couldn't be with them. He couldn't befriend _witches_. Witches were evil. Not that Amy and Paco were looking so evil, standing there on the other side of the parking lot, talking.

He froze when Amy looked up and their eyes met. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds, before he turned his head and stared at the concrete.

_Come on, Sammy._

He looked up again when he noticed a fat kid running his way. He was red in the face and panting horribly, sounding like he was going to choke and drop dead. His eyes flickered to Amy and Paco again, noticing them looking their way with worried looks on their faces.

"Whi-… Winchester!" the kid yelled, "You're Winchester, right? The small Winchester's brother? What's his name… Sam?"

"Yeah," Dean answered tentatively.

"Hurry!" the fat kid yelled and he took off again.

"Wait… what?" he asked, frowning.

"They're drowning your brother," Gary yelled over his shoulder. Dean's eyes widened comically and he didn't realize he was running until he passed the fat kid.

"At the pond," Gary panted, "I'm sorry… I'm really sorry!"

"Why?" Dean demanded, his heart clenching in fear.

"We've been… bullying him…" the kid sounded like he found it hard to admit, "Ever since he got here. Hell, we've been bullying kids since we were 7. But it got out of hand. I swear I didn't mean to kill him! I swear I never wanted that! We just wanted to roughen 'm up a little. We just wanted to have some fun…"

"Fun?" Dean shouted when he was done swearing, "You're a freaking nut job!"

He almost passed out in fear when he saw the group of kids in the water. His brother's orange hand-me-down coat stood out brightly against the black water, his brother hanging limply in it. A tall, skinny girl with short brown hair was drowning his baby brother.

He didn't pause to think, just stormed at the girl and ripped his brother out of her arms and out of the water.

"Hey!" she yelled and Dean was torn between ripping the bitch's lungs out and dragging his brother to the grass to make sure the kid was alive and kicking. His brother coughed softly and water gushed out of his mouth.

"It's okay," Dean whispered. How could he not have seen this coming? They'd been bullying Sammy. They'd been _bullying_ _his_ _Sammy_, "Dean's here now. It's okay, you're okay."

Sam mumbled something and half opened his eyes. They couldn't seem to focus on Dean though.

"Gary!" the skinny girl yelled, "What do you think you're doing bringing _him_ here. You're spoiling it! You're spoiling everything!"

The bitch was crazy.

"Don't move," he whispered, laying Sammy in the grass and planting a soft kiss on his head, "I'll be right back."

"Asshole! Freak! Retard!" the girl was screaming, angrily shaking her fist at the fat kid who'd come to get him. He stomped back into the water and punched her in the face with enough force to send her flying backwards. Her arms flailed for a second, before she fell and landed with a loud splash. He jumped on top of her and wrapped his fingers around her neck and shoulders.

"You _insane_ bitch!" he screamed, pushing her head under for a couple of seconds, "You like that? You _like_ that?" he held her under again, "You _do not_ drown my brother!"

She opened her mouth and shrieked, long and loud.

"SHUT UP!" Dean screamed back, slapping her open handed. Someone grabbed him and pulled him off the girl, but he punched that guy in the face as well. The guy let him go again.

"THAT'S MY BROTHER!" he screamed, returning his attention to the shrieking girl at his feet, "MY _BROTHER_! You're a _monster_!"

More of her friends grabbed him and tried to pry him away from them. He tried to fight them off and managed to land another few punches, until one of them hit them on his ear and he stumbled sideways.

"Leave him alone," a cold voice said. Dean looked up dizzily to see Paco staring angrily at the jocks in the water. Amy was sitting next to Sam, talking softly to him. Soothing him. Dean straightened himself again, now the attention was on his ex-friend. Paco threw himself in the fight the moment another one of the jocks threw a punch at Dean.

For a few moments, they were a grunting, splashing, fighting group of animals. Then, Gary's frightened voice announced that this was seriously getting out of hand and he was going to look for a teacher. The jocks froze, staring at each other with wide eyes. When Gary started running away from them, they woke up from their stupor, running after the kid.

"No!" Mia yelled, desperately, "Don't go after him! God, you're so stupid! He's going to get us all busted…" she balled her fist and stared at Sam, "I'm going to get you for this, Lose-Chester…"

"You can try," Dean growled, "But I swear to God, I'll kill you if you do."

Mia looked frightened for a second, before she huffed "Whatever" and took off. Dean breathed out slowly and ran to Sam and Amy.

"Sam," he whispered, falling to his knees, "Sam… Sam… Sam… Sam… Sam!"

Sam slowly opened his eyes and Dean rubbed the kid's wet hair and water out of them, so he could at least see. Amy had laid his brother's head in her lap and was rubbing slow circles on his chest, probably trying to help him breathe more easily.

"Sammy," he mumbled, his throat closing with emotion. Why hadn't he told him those kids were bullying him? Why did it have to get so out of hand before he found out? Why didn't he realize sooner?

"Sammy," he repeated and Sam's hand snuck around Dean's wrist and grasped it. The boy looked so small and frightened, staring up at his big brother like he expected him to make everything alright again. Then, Sam started crying.

It started out as just tears leaking from his eyes, and a quivering lower lip, but soon Dean found his brother sobbing loudly as he gently took him out of Amy's grasp and wrapped him in his own arms. The kid's body was shaking so badly Dean was afraid he was having some sort of attack. He kept calling for Dean, making him feel like the worst big brother in the world. He shouldn't have let it come this far. This should never have happened.

"Sammy," he mumbled, pressing his face against his brother's cold neck, "I'm so sorry, Sammy…"

"Dean," Sam repeated over and over again, "Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean."

Dean looked up in surprise when something soft and warm was wrapped around him and Sam. Amy was looking at them with an unreadable look in her eyes, while wrapping her thick coat around them.

"Why…?" Dean asked, and he choked a little on the words, "Why are you doing this. You don't have to…"

"You may not think much of us," Paco answered, "But we were once your friends. We could still be, if only you let us."

"We're not _evil_, Dean," Amy repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time.

"I know," he answered softly, closing his eyes and pulling Sam a little closer. The kid just kept on crying and sobbing in his arms.

"Do you?" Paco asked, a little skeptic. He sat down next to Amy and leaned close to her to share some body heat.

"I do," he mumbled. He breathed in shakily. He needed them to understand. They had to understand.

"Those girls," he said, "Those girls who were murdered… It was witchcraft. A witch killed them."

Amy's gasp was almost comical.

"That's what witches are," Dean said, "That's what they do. They're _evil_. They _kill_ people."

"But we wouldn't…" she started, "We would never…"

"Not yet," he said, "But eventually…"

Paco stared at him, "That's… bad."

Dean almost laughed.

"Paco…" Amy turned towards her friend, "Alexis and Daniel… They don't know… we can't let them become evil."

"You're saying you want out?" Paco asked.

"I'm saying we need to seriously discuss and reconsider this," she answered. The two of them stared at each other, a silent battle of wills.

"Fine," Paco said after all, "You're right. We can't… I don't want to become a monster. We've had our fun… Take your brother home, Dean."

Paco pushed himself to his feet and pulled Amy up as well, "My grandmother is waiting for Amy and me. Get home safe."

Amy still looked a little confused and sent compassionate looks their way. She nodded, then shook her head. He wondered what was going through her mind. He wondered if it had been a good idea, telling them. Trusting them again.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean whispered to the crying boy in his arms when his ex-friends were walking away from them and Sam's sobs seemed to be slowly lessening, "Let's go back to dad."

Sam was clinging to him and when he pulled them to their feet, Sam collapsed against him.

"Whoa there tiger," he mumbled. Sam pressed his face against Dean's chest.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, supporting the kid to the Impala. He opened the trunk and wrapped his brother in the fleece plaid that laid there.

"Rest," he ordered as he turned the key in the ignition and brushed some of the still falling tears of the kid's face. He felt like something in Sam had been broken and he would never stop crying. Sam's face felt a little too warm under his touch.

By the time they got back to the motel, Sam had stopped crying. He was dully staring ahead of him, worrying Dean when he didn't answer his questions.

This was his fault.

Sam was his responsibility.

He opened Sam's door and tugged at his brother. Heat was pouring off the kid, and he cursed when he laid his hand on his forehead.

"Come on, Sammy," he begged. He had managed to get is brother out of the car, when he crumpled to the ground. He scooped him off the ground and into his arms, worrying over Sam's sudden drop of weight.

"Dad!" he yelled, kicking his foot against his father's door, "Dad!"

Sam moaned in his arm, his head rolling on his shoulders.

"I just saved you from drowning," he told him, shaking with fright, "don't you dare die on me now… DAD!"

The door swung open and his father looked at them angrily and a little confused, until he noticed the state his boys were in. Without a word, he took Sam from Dean's arms and carried him to the bed.

"Get the first aid box," he ordered, and when his eldest didn't move fast enough, he added: "Now, Dean!"

"What happened?" he asked stripping his son of his wet clothes and wrapping him in warm blankets, "Your brother is burning up. He was fine this morning. What _happened_, Dean?"

"They tried to drown him," he whispered, feeling shell-shocked, "They've been bullying Sam ever since we got here… and I didn't notice."

"Damn it, Dean!" John yelled, making his eldest flinch, "I asked you to take care of your brother! You promised me you were taking care of him!"

"I'm so sorry!" Dean cried, "I didn't know! I just… I didn't know…"

"You invested so much time in your so called friends that you completely forgot about your brother," John accused him, "The one person in the world who actually needs you."

It hurt when his father put it like that and he wanted to protest, but he knew his father was right. He had screwed up royally and now he'd have to live with the guilt.

"Yes," he confessed brokenly.

"Go find me some Tylenol," John ordered. Dean nodded, swallowing thickly against the lump in his throat. Dean searched the room until he found the bottle of pills in his father's bathroom. He silently handed them over, taking Sam's hand in his.

"He was fine this morning," he whispered, looking at his father for answers, "He can't have been in the water for that long. Why is he so sick? He shouldn't be this sick, should he?"

John looked up from his youngest to stare at his eldest for a couple of seconds, "His body probably couldn't deal with the stress anymore. He shut down."

"Does he need a hospital?" Dean asked anxiously.

"Not yet," John answered. He stood up and disappeared in to the bathroom for a moment, before coming back with a wet washcloth to lay on Sam's forehead, "Go to your room, Dean. Go through all the information we have and find me the killer."

Dean blinked, "You… want me to work on the case?"

"Obviously," John answered, "Go. I'll watch over Sam."

Dean wanted to say something, but he swallowed his words and left the room to go back to his own.

Sam drifted in and out of conscious for two days. His head was filled with feverish nightmares, that deep down, he knew were more than nightmares. They confused and scared him and he wanted to scream for Dean. But he couldn't find his voice.

_Mia was staring down at him, her hands wrapped around his neck as she pushed him under. He could see her through the water, her maniacal grin distorted by it._

_A flash, and he was sitting in a class room, staring, glaring at a group of laughing teenagers. They didn't look back, probably didn't even know he was there. He raised his hand when a question was asked, but someone else was picked. He glared harder._

_He was walking through the hallways of his school, someone bumped into him but didn't apologize. A girl giggled and he thought he was the cause of it. But he wasn't. It was dark when he continued his walk through the corridors, all other students suddenly gone. There was a girl walking next to him, asking him where they were going. He smiled at her and suddenly recognized her as Tatiana Hodgins, the cheerleader. _

_The next thing he knew he was strangling her._

_She morphed into Chrissy and then Esmeralda. His hands were still wrapped around their necks as the girls changed and stared up at him with shocked looks in their eyes, as if they couldn't believe what was happening to them. A strand of blond hair fell in front of his eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently, going back to strangling the girls._

_He was sitting in a corner, staring at the other students. Kathrine walked past him, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. _

_A flash, and she was laying dead at his feet, while he was angrily copying an article he'd stolen from her office. _

_He was standing over a sink, sighing while washing his delicate looking hands. Those hands had killed people. But they'd had it coming. He splashed some water in his face and looked up. A blonde was staring back at him, and it took him a full second to realize that that was him in a mirror. Then she was gone and the mirror was empty. _

_Making Ann a mermaid turned out to be more difficult than he'd anticipated. He didn't like sewing. Melissa was fun though, slamming that stupid, shiny flute down her throat and stuffing it with dollar bills from her wallet. He hid the rest in the pockets of his skirt. It wasn't like she was going to need it any time soon. _

_Bridget was staring at him haughtily. Her mouth was moving as she said something to him, but he didn't hear her over the blood rushing through his ears. He blinked and he was stuffing her heart in her mouth. He'd cut open her face to make it fit, but that hadn't been necessary. The heart melted in his hands as he tried to push it down her throat._

_There was a sound and he turned around anxiously. He was standing in the hallway, staring at his brother and father and himself. But the boy over there was Sam and he _wasn't_. He was someone else. _

_He ran._

_When the old man almost caught him, he blinked and he was back in the Art Room. A pretty black girl was staring at him with a scared look in her crying eyes. _

"_Not so pretty now, are you?" he asked her. His voice sounded bitter and girly. The girl screamed, terrified when he came closer. He could see his own reflection in her eyes. His pale fingers closed around her dark neck. They struggled for a moment and a rush of both excitement and disgust flooded through his body. It was ages, or maybe only seconds before the girl went slack in his hands. _

"_You had it coming," he whispered in that bitter girly voice. He spread the girl on the floor and combed her hair, straightened her clothes._

"_You're underdressed," he mumbled and used the girl's Prom Queen Sash to transform her head into something that looked like an Easter Egg. A grin spread over his face as he broke the tiara. He lifted the dead girl's blouse and slammed both ends of the tiara down. The girl's skin broke and the tiara-parts disappeared partly into the blubber he'd created. He got up and grinned at his piece of art. If this wasn't a masterpiece, he didn't know what was. He shouldn't have too many problems with getting into an arts college next year. _

_He looked over his shoulder at the girl and sneered at her, "Don't look so surprised."_

_He closed the door behind him with a soft click._

* * *

><p><strong>Some Psychic!Sam ^^ I know, that shouldn't be until he's what, 22? 23? but what the hell ever ^^ let's just say that the stress and illness make him 'see' things ^^ <strong>

**So yes, if that wasn't clear: Sam's in the killer's head during his feverish nightmares. Except for the first few sentences, where Mia is drowning him again.**

**Only one more chapter to go... I'm not too excited about this one, but I'm hoping I'll be able to make the last one epic ;) I'm going to fail at that :p **

**Oh, and are they trying to kill me or what? No new episode this week! I wanted one so badly! I've been anxious all week, telling all my friends I wanted Bobby to be okay... and that while I'm the only one here who watches SPN! They must have all thought I'd gone crazy ^^ not that they didn't think that already ;)  
><strong>

**- Lune x  
><strong>


	22. The Lonely

_Last chapter guys..._

_It took me 2 weeks to write this chapter instead of one, so sorry there was no update last week. Those who'd left me a review knew that, as I'd been able to warn them ^^ _

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><p><strong>Chapter 22: The Lonely<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I'm the ghost of a girl<br>That I want to be most  
>I'm the shell of a girl<br>That I used to know well_

_Dancing slowly in an empty room_  
><em>Can the lonely take the place of you<em>  
><em>I sing myself a quiet lullaby<em>  
><em>Then you go and let the lonely in<em>  
><em>To take my heart again<em>

_**Christina Perri – The Lonely**_

* * *

><p>"I know who did it," Sam whispered, and promptly started coughing his lungs out. Someone turned him on his side and softly thumped his back until he stopped wheezing and was able to breathe again. He rolled back on his back and panted, looking sideways. Dean was staring back, looking pale and tired.<p>

"Hey," Sam whispered, smiling a little. He wiggled uncomfortably in his bed, feeling hot and sticky.

"Hey," Dean answered. His voice sounded rough, Sam noticed.

"I know who did it," he repeated. He felt a little detached from his body. His headache made it a little hard to concentrate.

"You need to rest," Dean answered. They were both silent for a few minutes, before Dean silently said "I'm glad you're awake" and brushed his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked and clumsily grabbed Dean's wrist, "Dean… Dean, look at me…"

"I'm fine Sammy," Dean gave him a small smile.

"Where's dad?" Sam asked, finally noticing his father's absence.

"In his room," Dean glanced at the wall, "He's almost cracked the case."

Both brothers were silent again, until Sam softly asked: "Is he not talking to you again?"

Dean got up and walked away from Sam's bed, running a hand over his mouth. He walked to the window and stared out of it, before sitting down heavily in one of those plastic chairs.

"It's nothing," he said at last, "How are you feeling?"

Sam shrugged, "Like I've been sleeping for days."

He almost managed to make grin. His brother sighed and sat down next to him again, "Let me check your fever."

"I can do it," Sam argued, pushing Dean away as he tried to stick the thermometer in his ear. He clumsily snagged it away from his brother and stuck it in his ear, waiting for the beep.

"How much?" Dean asked, looking a bit anxious.

"100.4," Sam answered. Dean sighed in relief.

"You're doing great," he said, ruffling through his brother's hair, "You do need to shower though."

"Later," Sam agreed. He yawned and blinked heavily, "Sleep first."

Dean nodded and Sam closed his eyes, blinking them open again to look at Dean, "I know who did it."

"Go to sleep, Sammy," Dean said and brushed his hand over Sam's eyes, closing them.

When Sam woke up again, his father was sitting next to his bad, reading his journal and writing something down every now and then. Sam studied his dad for a while, before the older Winchester noticed his son was awake.

"Hey Sammy," he said softly and smiled, "How're you feeling?"

Sam shrugged and sighed, propping himself up on his elbows a little. John got up and readjusted the pillows, so Sam could sit up without wearing himself out.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked.

"Ssh," John answered, and brought his finger to his lips, before pointing behind him. Sam followed his finger and noticed his brother. Dean was fast asleep, lying awkwardly in the chair. He looked like hell, exhausted and sad.

"He's asleep," Sam mumbled.

"Finally," John sighed, still staring at his eldest, "I don't think he's slept much since you… fell ill…"

Sam blushed a little and looked away from his family members, softly asking: "Are you mad at me?"

"_No_ Sammy," John said and he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. His son looked up at him. He looked so young and vulnerable.

"Are you mad at Dean?" Sam asked even softer.

"I'm not mad," John sighed.

"He thinks you're mad," Sam said, "He's beating himself up over… everything _I_ did wrong."

"Dean is fine," John said, glancing at the sleeping teenager.

"Please talk to him," Sam begged. John looked back at his youngest son and ruffled the kid's hair. _Daddy would make everything alright._

"So…" John asked after a few seconds, "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Eh…" Sam could feel the blood drain from his face, before it all flooded back, making him blush, "I don't… I just… I didn't…"

"Sam…" John said in that slightly threatening tone of his. Sam shook his head and bit his lip, looking away.

"Why didn't you tell us things were going so bad at school?" John demanded. Sam shrugged, refused to look his father in the eye. He could tell him that, really, it wasn't _that_ bad. But he knew he'd be lying, and frankly, he was tired of lying. Besides, he was fairly certain his father _knew_ that the things going on at his school were indeed that bad.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled. John sighed and Sam scrunched his eyes shut, willing the world to go away.

"C'mon Sam," John asked, sounding a little impatient, "Just talk to me."

"They just… they don't _like_ me," Sam whispered in shame.

"That's no excuse to try and _drown_ you!" John exclaimed angrily.

"Ssh!" Sam hushed his father, "You'll wake Dean."

For a moment he thought his father was going to say '_Fuck Dean'_ and yell at Sam, but then he seemed to calm down.

"You should have told us something," he said at last, "Things shouldn't have gotten this out of hand."

"I'm sorry," he said, again.

"You're not the one who should be sorry," John mumbled angrily. Sam glanced at Dean and remembered the dream he'd had. This would be the perfect diversion, wouldn't it?

"Daddy," he said, "I know who did it."

"Did what?" John asked.

"The killings," Sam swallowed, "I know who the murderer is."

"What?" he could see his father pale a little and he suddenly wondered if he'd made a mistake. What if his father now thought he was a freak?

"I… I saw it… in a dream," he stuttered nervously. His throat suddenly hurt and he coughed softly.

"In a dream?" John repeated slowly and Sam could see him swallow, "What did you see Sammy?"

"I… it didn't always make sense," he said, "First, I dreamed of… Mia. But suddenly, I… I _was_ the killer. I was in her head… and I… I killed all those girls… and I saw us, while we were hunting her the other night… and there was this… mirror… and I saw myself. Well, not myself, but the killer-self, which was myself in the dream but then at the same time no-"

"Sam," John snapped, effectively stopping his son's rambling, "You were _inside_ the killer's head?"

Sam nodded shyly, "But… there was something weird… I also dreamed I killed this black girl, but no black girls died, right? … _right_?"

His father's scared look terrified him and he cried out in fear when his father grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"You saw a black girl die?" he asked frantically, "You killed a black girl?"

"Daddy!" Sam cried. Suddenly there was Dean, calling for his dad and pulling on the man's arms. John let go of him and sunk back in the chair, staring at his youngest with a confused and scared look in his eyes.

"Dad?" Dean asked, tentatively, "Sammy?"

"You killed the black girl?" he repeated, softer.

"I… yes?" had that been the wrong thing to say?

John got up and walked to the table, walking back with the big folder they kept the information on the case in. Dean and Sam shared a glance and Dean mouthed 'you okay?'. Sam nodded, feeling confused.

"Was this the girl, Sam?" John asked slowly, holding up a picture of a pretty black girl. There was a Prom Queen Sash around her head, making it look like an Easter egg. Just like in his dream. Panic set in his stomach, making him a little queasy.

"Y-yes," he stuttered. John fell in the chair and looked from the picture to his son and back.

"What…" Dean started, "I don't understand?"

"Your brother knows who our killer is," John said, shaking his head in an unbelieving way.

"What?" Dean asked, looking from his father to his brother, "How?"

"He saw it in a dream," John said and took a deep breath. Dean frowned and opened his mouth to ask something else. Sam looked at him with scared puppy eyes and almost invisibly shook his head. Dean's mouth snapped shut again and he sat down next to his brother, laying his hand on the kid's arm.

"It's okay, Sammy," he smiled. Sam could see he was terrified as well.

"Who was she?" Sam asked in a shaking voice.

"Her name was Leah Menken," John said, "She was last year's junior prom queen… who did it, Sam? Who is our killer?"

"I… I don't know her name," Sam whispered. He could see disappointment flood into his father's eyes, "But, she has long blonde hair and big eyes… and… and I know why she did it. Or, partly at least… she's jealous. I think. You see, all these girls, they're all important somehow, no? They're either really rich or really pretty or a cheerleader or the leader of something, like Kathrine was the head of the school newspaper and Ann was the captain of the girls swimming team… right?"

"You don't have a name?" John asked. Sam shook his head and looked at his hands, "But you think you would recognize her if you saw her at school?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm also pretty certain she's a senior. She spoke of attending an arts college next year."

"Dean," John said, "Make me a list of all female seniors taking arts classes."

Dean jumped to his feet and started the laptop. All three of them were silent, Dean composing a list, Sam resting and John impatiently staring over Dean's shoulder and tapping his fingers on the table, making his eldest nervous.

"Sam?" John gently shook his son awake when the list was finished, shoving the laptop towards the kid, "Sammy, wake up. Is she on the list? Do you recognize her name?"

Sam yawned and blinked sluggishly, rubbing a hand in his eye. His head was pounding and he had to disappoint his father, shaking his head.

"I don't know her name," he said slowly, reading all the names carefully, "I'm sorry."

"Get me pictures, Dean," John ordered. Dean nodded and carefully carried the laptop back to the table. Sam stared after him and looked at his father. When John caught his youngest staring, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He nodded slightly, as if to say _'yeah, yeah, I know'_.

"Better?" Dean asked after half an hour, handing the laptop back to his father. Now, every name was followed by a small picture of a girl.

"Sammy?" John asked. Sam stared at the screen. He could skip all not-blondes, as he had dreamed of a blonde.

"Her," Sam shouted, pointing his finger at the screen, "It's her!"

"Are you certain?" John asked. Sam nodded.

"It's her," he repeated.

"I'm proud of you boys," John said and disappeared into the bathroom. Sam watched as Dean sagged in relief, a small smile tugging at his lips. Sam smiled at him when their eyes met.

"So… eh…" Dean asked, "Who is it?"

Sam pointed at the screen and Dean's eyes grew big in surprise.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Dude," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean mumbled, sitting down, "Just… wow... Didn't see that one coming."

"Now what?" Sam asked.

"Now we catch her," John said from the bathroom door.

- SPN -

The brothers sat next to each other in the Impala, staring at the school building. They had given Sam another day to recover before they returned, having thought out a plan to catch their murderous witch. The closer they had gotten to their school, the paler and more silent Sam had become. Now he was a pale, shivering mess in the passenger's seat.

"You okay?" Dean asked softly. Sam didn't pry his eyes away from the brick building.

"Do I have to go?" he asked, his voice slightly shaking.

"I don't want to go, Dean," he begged when his brother didn't immediately answer. He finally turned towards him, giving Dean his best puppy eyes.

"It'll be okay," Dean answered, gently brushing his fingers through Sam's hair, "I'm here now, right? We're in this together. It's almost over."

Sam nervously rubbed his fingers together, glancing from Dean to their school back to Dean.

"You've been brave," Dean whispered, wrapping a hand over Sam's, "You can do this. I know you can."

Sam looked up and sighed, nodding.

"Thank you," he mouthed. He bit his lip, once more glancing at the building, "Don't leave me?"

"I won't," Dean said. He had learned his lesson. Sam came before everything and everyone. His brother reached for the handle and started opening the door.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice stopped him and he turned around, "I love you."

He smiled and blushed, "I love you too, Dean."

Dean grinned and they climbed out of the Impala. They walked in silence, shoulder to shoulder. People stared and pointed at them, making Sam feel uncomfortable. He stared at his feet as he walked, unable to meet the stares.

"Mr. Winchester!" a stern voice sounded, the moment they entered the building. Sam tensed and Dean slowly turned around.

"Why Ms Roberts," Dean said in his I-hate-you-so-much-but-I'm-still-grinning-'cause-I'm-awesome-like-that voice, "How can we help you?"

Ms Roberts stared at him like she's just seen him swallow one of the frogs they had to dissect, "The principal would like to see you."

Sam could feel his brother tense slightly and he briefly looked up to see his face.

"Can't leave the principal waiting, can we Sammy?" he asked, flashing a grin at his brother. Sam shrugged and stared at the old hag that went by the name Ms Roberts.

"Follow me," she snapped and briskly walked away. They almost jogged to the principal, following the high click-clack noises of the hag. For an old, grey woman, she walked remarkably fast. She tapped on the door and opened it, announcing that 'Dean Winchester' was here to see the principal. Her hand snuck out and grabbed Sam's shoulder when he tried to follow his brother into the principal's office.

"No," she said brusquely, "Dean only. We'll deal with _you_ later."

Sam stared at her with wide eyes and she stared back with equally big eyes, challenging him to throw a fuss so she could throw him out.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean said softly, briefly resting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'll be right back."

Sam looked up at Dean and nodded back when he nodded at him and disappeared through the door.

"You can wait over there if you like," the old hag said, pointing towards a row of chairs in the middle of the hallway. He nodded and quickly shuffled towards the green chairs. He sat down and stared at the trembling hands in his lap, swallowing thickly. He felt a little dizzy and a little sick. God, he didn't want to be here.

Just come back Dean.

He didn't know how long he sat there, wishing for his brother to come back until someone collapsed into the chair next to him with a heavy sigh, saying "Winchester."

Not Dean.

Definitely not Dean.

Sam's head snapped to the side to see Gary looking at him with an evil glare in his eyes. He jumped up from his chair as if he was electrocuted and stumbled away from the fat kid. He would have screamed for Dean, but he couldn't find his voice. Clumsily, he turned around and tried running away from the bully, tripping over his too big feet and stumbling again.

"Winchester!" Gary yelled and he could hear him get up, "Winchester! Sam, wait!"

Gary grabbed his arm and swirled him around so he had to face him. Sam was panting and his legs felt like rubber, threatening to give out from under him.

"DE-" he started to holler. He cut short when Gary pulled his hands off him and them in the air, palms facing Sam.

"Whoa!" Gary quickly said, "Calm down, okay? I won't hurt you."

Sam stared at the fat boy, every single brain cell screaming at him to run away from him.

"Really," Gary said, "Calm down… I think… you look like… maybe you should sit down…"

The fat boy pointed to the chairs and Sam's eyes flashed to the door to the principal's office. Dean still hadn't come out, and now he couldn't even see Ms Roberts anymore. Slowly, he made his way back to the ugly green chairs and sat down, staring at the other boy.

Gary said, sitting down next to him and heaving a deep sigh, "I got detention for what I did to you."

Sam pulled his shoulders up and tried to disappear like a turtle into its shield. It was his fault Gary had gotten detention, now he was going to receive a beating.

"I don't blame you, you know," Gary said, looking at him.

He was going to beat him up, oh God, he was going to… hold on, what?

"What?" Sam asked, hoarsely.

"I don't… blame you," Gary said, Sam looked up at him. Maybe he had imagined the evil glare earlier, because Gary sure didn't look evil now. Just… remorseful. Or something, "What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have bullied you, or beaten you, or… any of the things I did to you."

Sam blinked slowly, not sure he was hearing this right.

"I guess I got what I had coming," Gary shrugged, "I have detention every evening and Saturday the whole day for a month. Mia is suspended for two weeks and it's on her permanent record. But don't expect too much of it, Mia's dad is one of the big ones around here. He has a lot of influence, and it wouldn't surprise me if she was back in a week."

Sam blinked again. Everything was spinning.

"So, yeah," Gary shrugged, "Like I said: what I did was wrong. I needed a wake-up-call and that's exactly what you and Mia and the _principal_ have given me," his eyes darted to the still closed door and Sam followed his example, "I'm sorry, okay? I don't expect you to forgive me, but… I just wanted you to know that I found my way again… thanks to you."

The door opened and Dean came out, looking pale and angry. Both boys stared at him as he rested a hand against the wall for a second and took a deep breath to calm himself down, swearing softly. His eyes flickered to the two boys in the chairs and he froze for a second, before stalking towards them.

"Sammy," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder and staring at the other boy, "Gary."

He thrust forward his other hand, pointing it towards Gary, "Thank you. I owe you."

Gary shook his head and grabbed Dean's hand, shaking it, "You don't."

"Mr. Walters," Ms Roberts shrieked, "The principal will see you now."

Gary briefly held up his hand to the brothers and trudged away from them.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked, turning towards Dean after the door had closed with a bang.

"Oh… yeah," Dean looked over his shoulder to the closed door, "Gary saved your life, dude. He's the one who came looking for me. He's also the one who lead the jocks to the teachers. Thanks to him, they all have detention now, including himself. That Mia-bitch is suspended, by the way."

"So I've heard," Sam mumbled. Had Gary seriously saved his life? Of all people he had never expected it to be Gary.

"C'mon squirt," Dean said, leading his brother, "I'll drop you off at your class and see you in the break."

"What did the principal want from you?" Sam asked.

"He wanted to hear my version of what happened to you," Dean shrugged.

"Oh," Sam mumbled, "You mad?"

"Not at you," Dean said, "Wait for me at the cafeteria during lunch, 'kay? We'll eat together."

"Thanks Dean," Sam said and shot him a small smile. Dean ruffled his hair and left.

When he reached his locker, he saw Amy talking to one of the cheerleaders. The cheerleader's eyes darted around, as if their meeting was secret, not to be known. The cheerleader as a popular girl, probably didn't want to be caught talking to one of the Outcasts.

Amy's eyes grew big when she looked up and saw him. She said something to the cheerleader and left, almost running towards him.

"Dean!" she breathed. She made a move as if she was about to hug him and reminded herself mid-movement that she wasn't allowed to do that anymore.

"Dean," she repeated. He noticed she had a fading black eye and he slightly winced, "I didn't think you'd come back."

"I did," he said.

"How is Sam?" she asked, "Can I walk you to psychology?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, sure," truth be told, he kind of did miss her, "Sam's fine."

"You missed two days of school," she said, "I thought…" she shook her head.

"Sam's been really ill," he said in return, "but he's better now. Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, Ruth," she answered, "She's my cousin."

_All these girls, they're all important somehow, no? They're either really rich or really pretty or a cheerleader or the leader of something…_

Sam's words rang through his head and he looked at Amy.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked. She nodded and he smiled, "Do you trust me?"

"I do," she answered, "I miss you too."

"Yeah," he said, uncomfortably rubbing his hand over his arm, "can you talk to… Ruth? … again? I'll tell you when and where. All you have to do next is be mean to someone."

"Why?" she asked.

"Remember my 'the killer is a witch' theory?" he asked. She nodded, "Good. We're going to catch her."

Amy looked confused, she he quickly told her about the plan.

"So… I'm… bait?" she asked nervously.

"Only if you want to," Dean said, "My dad and I will protect you. I promise, we're good at this. It's not the first time we do this."

"I'll do it," she said, sounding scared yet determined. They spotted the other Outcasts and Dean slowed down a little. Paco was sporting a fading black eye as well. His was probably a result from the whole Save-Sammy scenario.

Amy must have seen him staring, 'cause she said, "We miss you, Dean. Won't you come back?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "It's better if I don't. Alexis hates me anyhow."

"She doesn't hate you," Amy said, lightly touching his arm, "She just feels… kind of betrayed. She trusted you, and suddenly, you blew up in her face about choices she had made."

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"We're quitting, you know," Amy said, "No more witchcraft. The others have agreed. We just didn't realize how dangerous it really is."

"I respect your choices, really," Dean said, looking at the brunette walking next to him, "I just… can't. Not with what I've seen."

"If you've dealt with more killer-witches…" Amy started, "I kind of see your point."

They smiled at each other.

"Anyway, I'm going to the Outcasts," she said, "The offer still stands, feel free to join us if you want."

"Thanks, Amy," he said wholeheartedly.

"You're still our friend, Dean," she answered and walked away.

Later that day, Daniel and Alexis came to him and Sam during the last break.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Daniel asked him.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"Since she talked to you and Ruth during lunch, Amy has been totally out of it," Alexis said, "It's like in some sort of trance or something."

Dean looked at Sam and back at the two Outcasts in front of them, "It has started."

"Started?" Daniel asked, "What has started?"

"You're not going to like this," Dean said, "But you have to trust me on this one."

The Outcasts blinked.

"Trust you?" Alexis started, but she was cut off by Daniel holding up his hand.

"This is _Amy_ we're talking about," Daniel said slowly, "I swear to God, if _anything_ happens to her…"

"I'll keep her safe, I promise," Dean said, "Daniel, I promise I'll do everything in my might to keep her from any harm."

"If anything happens to her…" Daniel said again, "You're still my friend. I've trusted you before and even though you've turned your back on us, I haven't stopped doing so. Don't make me regret it. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but Amy means more to me than you do. No offense."

"None taken," Dean said, "Thanks, Dan."

Daniel nodded and sighed, turning around.

"Did she say anything about tonight?" Dean asked.

"She's meeting Ruth tonight at 9," Daniel answered and he walked back to the other Outcasts.

"Dean," Alexis said, briefly grabbing his arm before letting go of him again, "Please don't let anything happen to her… Amy is my best friend."

"I promise," Dean said, "I'm sorry about before."

"Me too," Alexis said and she walked away from him. Sam laid a hand on his arm and together they waited for the knives to stop slicing through his heart.

It was a lot later when they arrived back at the school. It was a little before nine and Amy was nowhere to be seen. Dean swallowed nervously, caring too much about Amy to ever forgive himself if he broke the promise he'd made.

He followed his father and brother into the school, his gun drawn. Someone was talking, somewhere far away. His father and he shared a glance and they hurried forward.

"Where are we going?" they heard Amy ask when they entered the staircase.

"Almost there," a girl's voice answered. The sound of a door falling shut and the voices were gone. They ran up the stairs, not caring if their footsteps were loud.

When they burst through the door to the arts class, Dean was shocked by the scene in front of him. A blonde was sitting on top of Amy, her hands wrapped around her neck. They were _glowing_.

She snapped her head towards them, glaring at the intruders.

"You!" she screamed.

"You," Dean breathed. Heather Dawson, the blonde loner from his psychology class was scowling at them. Amy was making horrible choking sounds, staring pleadingly at Dean.

"Let go of her!" Dean demanded, dashing forward to save his friend.

"Stay away from me!" Heather screamed and she unwrapped one of her hands to point towards him.

Dean didn't know what was happening. One moment he was making his way towards Amy and Heather, the next he was flying through the air, his arms and legs flailing. He banged against the wall and he slid down to the floor, dizzy and disoriented. Someone was yelling his name.

Sam fell down to his knees next to him, small hands invading his personal space and feeling up his neck and face.

"Dean," Sam begged, "Dean, say something!"

"S'm," he mumbled, he blinked and waited for his surroundings to come into focus again. Amy was staring at him wide-eyed, still making those horrible choking noises, "'m fine."

He pushed himself up with a groan and Sam had to support him for a second when he lost balance and almost face-planted.

"Get off me, bitch," Dean gently shoved Sam's hands away, bringing his other hand to his head, "Amy…"

Dad and Heather were in the middle of a shouting match. Dad had his gun pointed at the witch's head and Heather's hands glowed stronger. Amy started crying.

She was concentrated on dad and Amy was still dying. He had to stop her. This was his chance.

He leapt forward and punched Heather in the face. Together, they toppled off Amy and he could hear her take a deep, shaky breath before she started coughing, fully sobbing now.

"Dean," someone shouted as Heather's hands closed around his arms and started glowing.

He screamed in agony. It felt as if everything inside him was on fire. He banged his head against the floor several times, but the pain wouldn't go away. In contrary, it only grew stronger. With a jolt, he realized she was melting him.

Heather was screaming in his face, but he didn't understand a word of what she was saying over his own pained cries. He swore he could hear dad and Sam screaming as well, and maybe even Amy.

Then it was over. Heather disappeared from his line of view and the pain gradually lessened, leaving him panting on the floor. Amy appeared in front of him, all bruises and tears and then he was in her arms, as she was shaking and sobbing.

"Dean," she blubbered. Dean wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She cried louder, clinging to him. After a few minutes, her sobs died away and she was just shaking, her head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean watched as Sam and dad struggled with the evil witch-bitch.

"I have to help them," he mumbled.

"Help them," Amy answered and let go of him. He dizzily climbed to his feet. Amy held up her hand and he grabbed it to keep himself upright.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Dad slammed the evil witch-bitch's head against the floor and she stopped struggling, staring at him drowsily.

"You don't know," she slurred, "You don't know what it is like."

"You killed 8 girls," dad said, "You almost killed 9."

"I did," she answered, "They had it coming."

"You killed _8 innocent girls_," dad growled.

"_Innocent_," Heather snorted, repeating: "You don't know what it is like."

"What what is like?" dad snapped impatiently.

"They _bullied_ me!" Heather pushed herself up a little so she wasn't lying down anymore, "I've lived here my entire life and ever since I started middle school, everyone has been _ignoring_ me. No one has spoken a word to me in years!"

Tears sprang to her eyes, "And then Zoey Harris came to this school. And she taught me about witchcraft. She taught me stuff, but she didn't know what she was doing. Didn't know what she had started. Witchcraft brings such _power_. Finally, I could punish them for what they'd done to me. For ignoring me all these years. People finally noticed me. Noticed what I did."

"This ends now," dad growled and he cocked his gun, pointing it between the girl's eyes.

"Dad, no!" Sam yelled and he pushed his hands away.

"Sam," dad warned him.

"No," Sam repeated, "Don't kill her…"

"_Sam_," dad said again, "What are you doing?"

"Don't you see?" he asked, "She's just lonely. Lonely and crazy, but _lonely_. They bullied her into doing this, dad."

Dad blinked. Dean had to sit down again, still feeling a bit shaky from the inside-melting and flying into walls.

"There has to be another way," Sam begged, "Can't we call the police?"

"She's a _witch_, Sam," dad said, "If she was a regular girl, sure, we could call the police. But as long as she's a witch, she'd be able to bust out of prison."

"Can't you remove her witchcraft or something?" Sam asked, tears filling his eyes.

"You can't _remove_ someone's witchcraft, Sam," dad sighed.

"Actually, you can," Amy's shaky, hoarse voice interrupted. Dean glanced sideways.

"I know witchcraft comes from books and all and everyone can learn it," she said, "But you have a magical core. You need that core to be able to perform witchcraft."

"See," Sam was staring at dad with wide-eyes.

"How do you remove the magical core?" dad asked Amy.

"Witchcraft," she whispered.

"Can you remove it?" he asked. She glanced at Dean.

"I thought you said no more witchcraft?" she softly asked, "I see now witchcraft really is evil."

"It wouldn't be evil to use your powers to stop a murderer," dad answered softly. She bit her lip and stared at Dean.

"Can you do it?" he asked her.

"I think so," she answered. Dean grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"NO!" Heather screamed.

"Whenever you're ready, Amy," dad said softly.

"Thank you," Sam mouthed. Amy gave him a small smile and got to her feet. Dad grabbed her arm when she stumbled.

"I'm fine," she said, "Just a bit shaky. Can you hold her hands?"

Sam and dad each grabbed one of Heather's wrists and held them behind her back.

"_NO!_" she screamed again.

"I'm sorry you're so sad," Amy whispered and she placed her hands on each side of Heather's head. Her eyes closed and her hands started glowing, like Heather's had.

Heather's back arched and she struggled so hard Dean had to help Sam keep her arms away from Amy. When it was over, both girls sagged and collapsed.

"Amy!" Dean shouted, crawling to her, "Can you hear me? Amy!"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, opening her eyes.

"Did it work?" Sam and dad asked in unison.

"I think so," she mumbled.

"Thank you," Sam whispered and hugged her briefly, "Thank you."

Heather was crying, realizing she was a no one again and there was no way on earth she was ever going to be able to perform witchcraft again.

"Are you okay?" dad asked Amy. She nodded shakily, "Okay. We need to go. Call the cops, tell them Heather tried to strangle you and she confessed all the murders. Don't mention witchcraft. Don't mention us."

"Are you leaving for good?" she asked. Dad nodded. She glanced at Dean.

"Thank you, Dean," she said.

"Thank _you_," Dean mumbled. Dad and Sam looked away to give them some privacy as they hugged.

"No more witchcraft," she promised. He laughed.

"Tell the others I'm sorry," he asked, "and tell 'm '_thank you'_."

"I will," she smiled, "Bye Dean."

"Bye Amy," he whispered.

The three Winchesters got up and left the arts class, closing the door with a bang, leaving the two witches behind.

* * *

><p><strong>That's all folks... I hope you liked it! I'm both excited and sad that it's over :) I really hope the last chapter didn't let you down :)<br>**

**First of all: a special thank you to Tali, one of my BFF's ^^ not only did she write the poem I used a few chapters back, she also doesn't watch SPN, yet she loves to hear me plot ^^ I told her _everything_ about this story and she gave me lots of advice. Without her, I wouldn't have been able to write the end ^^ She helped me a great deal with that.**

**Second: thank you to all you lovely people who have read and reviewed _The Lonely_. I reached 200 reviews yesterday, YAY! Think we can make it 300? ^^ I still love to hear all your thoughts on this story, whether you read this in 2011 or 2031 ^^ Every review makes my day :D**

**Third: I now have twitter! Buuut I can't really work with it yet :p I'm figuring out how to use the at en hashtag ^^ If only one of you could explain how to use those cute small hyperlinks instead of long ones and how to add a photo and have a photo-album :D If you want to follow me, just look for LuneCorvin ^^ **

**Fourth: I READ ON TWITTER THAT MISHA IS COMING BACK TO SPN :D :D yaaaay ^^ **

**Fifth: I saw last week's episode and I cried SO HARD! Damn you SPN, for making me cry like a baby! This is seriously the only tv series ever to make me cry ^^**

**Was there something else I needed to say? Probably ^^ **

**Oh yes! Did anyone see it coming that it was Heather? She was in the story, you know ;)**

**And another thing I remember ^^ Just a fun-fact ^^ Paco was the name of my first dog. We had to do him away when I was 4 because he was aggressive. I cried really hard when my parents decided to give him away to someone else. He died a couple of years ago, when he ran under a car. I have a new dog now :) her name is Jirka and she's the sweetest French Bulldog you can imagine ^^  
><strong>

**Anyway, thank you guys. You are amazing! **

**I love you,**

**- Lune x  
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